Come A Little Closer
by JerichosRiot
Summary: It's been two years since the Dark Lord was killed. And two years since Draco Malfoy was brutally murdered at his hands; not that Hermione Granger is counting. So, when she finds an impossible someone locked away in the abandoned Malfoy Manor, will she come to learn who Draco Malfoy really was?
1. Bolt from the Blue

_Chapter One_

 _Bolt From the Blue_

Hermione Granger entered the dark room with no small amount of caution. She of all people, of course, would know that the grim halls she strode bore nothing but pain and fear. Her thoughts briefly paused on a face. A face she had not seen in, Merlin, had it really been two years? Brilliant blue eyes had caught the attention of her wayward thoughts, their frosty gaze beckoning her for a second glance. She waved away the blonde with an irritated inward huff.

She supposed it was all too right she should have thought of him then. After all, he was once a part of the family who called the foreboding manor a home. Hermione shook her thoughts clear of Draco Malfoy. It irked her that he chose now to haunt her. Only because her filthy blood was trekking its way through his ancestral home. And though she had never cared for the boy, or the cowardly man he had grown to be, his loss still nagged at her. Tickling the back of her mind when things slowed down, when she wasn't urgently keeping herself busy.

Because that was all she was doing these past few months. Keeping busy to the point of exhaustion. She had always been the thoughtful one, the smart one, the brain teeming with ideas. But lately, there had been too many ideas. Too many thoughts. Too many memories. Which, in truth, she guessed that was precisely why she found herself creeping room to room in Malfoy Manor.

The estate had fallen into immediate disrepair following the final battle. With no occupants to tend to its magical upkeep, the once glorious mansion had suffered. Hermione felt no sense of tragedy over the admittedly beautiful building. It reminded her of unbearable agony, but at least that narrowed her mind down. Less thoughts that way.

The manor had been vacant, not a living thing having crossed its threshold in nearly a year. The Ministry for Magic had seized the Malfoy's holdings upon Lucius Malfoy's life sentence to Azkaban, including the manor. Narcissa Malfoy had fled shortly after Voldemort had taken up residence with her family, rumored to have escaped to France with distant relatives. And as for their son? Well, Hermione preferred not to think about it.

Hermione, like the three other witches and wizards warily exploring the house, was searching. Unlike the other witches and wizards, she was not an Auror. She was supposed to be, technically, in order to be on such an assignment. But she had been asked to accompany them at the behest of her long time best friend, Harry Potter.

The task was the recovery of all magical artifacts within the manor. When she had initially questioned the Boy-Who-Lived about its sudden importance, he had given her a look she had accepted readily. For two years the house had lain dormant, not even a whisper of magic.

And then, like a bolt from the blue, a brief but fierce burst of magic had triggered alarms set on the manor. Since that event, just two days before, a barely detectable pulse of magic radiated throughout the building. Harry knew Hermione wouldn't turn the mystery down.

And it was no secret that Hermione Granger had become incredibly familiar with strange occurrences of magic. In the year following the battle, the Gryffindor had stayed with Bill and Fleur Weasley in France, happily absorbing the knowledge of the quiet but talented curse breaker. She had no interest in pursuing a career in the field, but the ever inquisitive bookworm that lingered in her was easily intrigued. Especially when it kept her mind busy.

Hermione's thoughts blessedly stopped altogether when she felt a faint but consistent buzz in her front left pocket. Lowering her wand to grab the small crystal orb from her jeans, she let out an excited gasp at the brilliant blue that flashed with each buzz.

There was magic in the room.

It wasn't anything special. Perhaps it had once been a guest room for the lesser guest. Small but inviting. Or as inviting as medieval wizardry décor could be. A heavy layer of grime coated what once was a lavishly decorated room. A small, sturdy four poster bed resided in the back left corner, emerald curtains broken and ripped, half hanging, half dragging the floor. There had once been a wall of mirrors on the opposite side of the room, but the glass was now strewn about the floor, mixed with the leaves that had drifted in through the blown out windows.

Glass crunched ominously under her boot clad feet as she made her way further into the room. The crystal in her hand pulsed stronger, the blue growing more luminescent with each step. She raised her wand and whispered a "Lumos."

She didn't know why she felt the need to whisper. For such a smart witch, surely she knew there was no one to disturb. But perhaps that was exactly why she had lowered her voice. For though it looked like the room had blown apart, it still somehow seemed too undisturbed. Too still.

Hermione approached a rather plain looking chest with ragged breaths. She couldn't fathom why her rational mind was letting her body behave in such an undignified way. She was alone. It was only a chest. No danger. No need for fear.

But her fingers had closed around the small crystal ball, its flashing light suddenly too blinding to bear uncovered. The blue light leaked through her fingers almost urgently, seemingly dyeing her pale digits a glowing azure. She frowned at it distrustfully at first, but then, upon closing her eyes, she realized something startling.

She could feel it.

She could feel the magic. The orb fell to the floor with a dull clatter. Suddenly, her heart dropped to her stomach. It was faint. And thank Merlin for that. Because the agony and sadness that seemed to radiate from the magic was bone chilling enough. Too strong and it very well might have swallowed her whole. She could feel it like a hand grasping for help, desperate fingers just out of reach.

Allowing her rational brain to let her body react in such an undignified way, Hermione's puffing breaths fell to a halt as she whispered another spell. And with her sickening suspicion burning a hole through her chest, the seemingly plain trunk revealed its contents with a complicated whirring of locks and gears. She let out the breath she had been holding as its lid fell back with a harsh thud. Bracing herself, Hermione peered over, déjà vu welcoming her like a long lost friend.

For what met Hermione's fearful gaze was a flash of brilliant blue.

Hermione Granger, the girl who had survived alongside the Chosen One on all of his ill planned schemes, survived the torture of the mad Bellatrix Lestrange, escaped Gringotts on the back of a dragon, was at a loss. She had never been so utterly frozen in her life. Her head, always teeming with too many thoughts, too many memories, too many words, was, for a blissful moment, completely and entirely white canvas blank.

But still not quite as blank as the eyes staring up at her from the dark abyss of the trunk in the corner of the room.

"Impossible," she found herself whispering into the stillness.

The eyes stared up at her, searching but not seeing. Then, a faint, broken, " _Please_ …"

The pitiful whimper finally spurred the shell shocked girl into action. "Merlin!" Then, deciding wizarding words weren't enough for her to express herself, Hermione looked to the blue eyes, raised her wand and cried, " _Jesus bloody Christ_."

Finally having heard the commotion Hermione was making, the Aurors she had accompanied burst into the room.

Aurors Hale, Rose, and Scott entered in time to witness Hermione's top half submerged in a plain trunk across the room. As they ran to her, they heard her say, "Don't worry, I'll get you out. I promise."

Auror Andy Hale gently pulled the younger witch away from the chest, only to gasp at who her words were directed at. "That's not…"

"It can't be," Auror Lucy Scott breathed in disbelief.

Dylan Rose, Hermione's personal favorite Auror to work with for his like-minded approach to such situations, simply nodded in grim acceptance and set to work.

Not five minutes later, five long, bony fingers weakly grasped those of Hermione Granger. Then, another set of five grabbed her other hand. And without warning, Hermione suddenly found herself supporting the barely existent weight of the body they belonged to.

Hermione was vaguely aware of Auror Scott calling in immediate medical assistance. She didn't see Auror Rose or Hale scouring the room and trunk for any lingering curses.

No. All she could focus on was the man in her arms. Or rather, the skeleton with alabaster skin. Alabaster skin and blue eyes like the sky on a summer's day. Eyes that had been haunting her just moments before.

Eyes she had seen the life snuffed out of before her very own two years before at the unimaginably cruel hands of Voldemort.

Yes, Hermione Granger, and the rest of those who had lived to survive the final battle, had seen it. The brutal murder of Draco Malfoy was not something the wizarding world was likely to soon forget. She certainly had not. She still woke up in fits and starts about it some nights. Unlike her peers, she had recognized the parallels between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Both boys pushed into an ugly fate they did not want, choices made for them, unable to resist. And for his life to have ended the way it did…

And though she was loathe to bring those memories to mind at will when she so often exhausted herself battling to keep them at bay, she felt she had to. To be sure. Because she _had_ to be sure. She had seen it. His murder. She couldn't _unsee_ it. It had plagued her memories for years. And it was that unwavering certainty that she had to cling to. Because otherwise her view of the world no longer made sense.

Because her rational mind was telling her that Draco Malfoy was killed by Voldemort's hands two years before.

But her body was screaming at her that her arms were wrapped around none other than Draco Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

 _ **A/N: New story! Woohoo! There's only one chapter left of the Truth Down Under, and I've been working on this in the meantime. I'm excited for this story. I just wanted to get this out here before I finished TDU so you'd know I wasn't going to disappear once it's over. So, this chapter is the shortest by far, but don't worry, the rest are about the same length as TDU. This first chapter is sort of a prolouge/first chapter. Anyway, I've got about six chapters written so far, so I'm going to try to keep the updates for this one a little less sporadic.**_

 _ **Let me know what you guys think, you know I love to hear from you all =)**_


	2. Monumentally Mundane

**_Chapter Two_**  
 ** _Monumentally Mundane_**

Hermione woke up the next morning when her body ungracefully collided with the floor. It was not an entirely unusual occurrence, waking up in such a way. Her nightmares caused her to thrash about something awful, and they had been known to deposit her onto her cold, hardwood floor. She liked to think it was her mind trying to save her from itself, but sometimes the valiant effort hurt a bit.

She pulled herself into a discombobulated mess with a pitiful groan. The girl pressed her fingers to the side of her throbbing temple just as someone burst through her fireplace.

Normally, she would have cared a bit more about unwelcomed visitors, but she knew not to complain when she heard a soft sigh. Warms arms gathered her up off the floor and gently settled her back on her bed. Blinking her eyes open slowly, wincing at the bright light, she was met with a vivid flash of green.

Not the green of the floo powder in the fire place, but the homey emerald of Harry Potter's worried eyes. "Hermione?"

"Good morning, Harry," she mumbled in response. The corner of his lips twitched upwards in a smirk as he judged her disgruntled self, "You sure about that?"

"Yes, it's still a _good_ morning. I woke up, didn't I?" she snapped sarcastically. Her friend let out a chuckle and ruffled her rat's nest of curls before flopping unceremoniously onto the bed beside her. She leaned her head on his shoulder almost unconsciously, as by now it was practically second nature to her. "What brings you over here so early?"

"Early? Hermione, it's nearly 11! Wow, you really are out of it, aren't you?"

"I _am_ human, you know. We've all slept in a little late every now and then," she retorted.

Harry nodded, but he wasn't finished. "Yes, you may be human, but you _are_ Hermione Granger. And that's not like you at all."

"Are you quite finished observing my life style, Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"So…"

Hermione sighed and pulled away from him. "If you're here to talk about what happened yesterday, then I'm going back to bed and you can leave."

"Aw, Hermione, you know I have to," the Boy-Who-Lived said apologetically. "Hermione, really I-are you kidding me? What are you? Four?"

But Hermione wasn't listening. She was too busy burrowing back under her covers. The girl grumbled irritably when he fished her back out.

"Hermione," he started. She rolled her eyes at his disapproving dad voice. He was quite good at it, she had to admit, but it was for Teddy, not her.

She ignored him instead, drawing herself to her feet and making her way to her closet. "I know what you want to ask me about, Harry. I just have nothing to say."

"Nothing to say?" he repeated incredulously. She could hear him jump to his feet, but he stayed where he was. "You just found Draco Malfoy alive yesterday! I don't know how to stress that enough because I didn't think I would need to. You found him alive and you have nothing to say?"

Hermione stared down at her hands. They were fisted around the back of the chair at her messily organized desk. Her knuckles were white as snow with her ironclad grip. If she let go, she knew they would shake. It was an unfortunate trait she had been gifted by the war. The tremors came and went and Merlin how she hated them.

Hermione Granger was not weak. She had never been weak. Her body and mind were strong. So strong as they had to be. So it seemed some cruel twist of fate to have her hands shake like the brittle leaves that dry up and get blown away. She was not a leaf. She was not weak. She was strong. So strong.

"Oh, Harry. I-I saw it. I was there. I saw what happened. The-the screams…oh, Merlin," she cried as she fell apart. Harry caught her in his arms before she could fall to the ground for the second time that day.

She was strong. So strong. But sometimes, it was okay to be weak. Sometimes it was okay to let someone else be strong for a while.

* * *

As Harry scuttled about her small kitchen making tea, Hermione admitted it seemed like a rather mundane morning despite everything. And she told him as such.

"What do you mean?" he wondered as he grabbed two mugs from the top shelf.

She frowned as she thought about it, her eyebrows pulling together in concentration. "It just seems like every other morning. But it's not, is it? I mean, yesterday, I found Draco alive. Barely alive, but still. He died two years ago, yet somehow, I just found him living. Breathing. It seems like things should feel different. Like they should have shifted somehow. It seems so monumental, but in the grand scheme of things, it appears to be insignificant."

"Well, I'd imagine it would have been a bit more monumental if anyone knew about it. But the Daily Prophet's not even heard a whisper about it. Had to threaten a few people here and there, but otherwise, very few people know what you found in Malfoy Manor," Harry explained.

"Who."

"Who what?"

" _Who_ I found in Malfoy Manor, not _what_ ," Hermione corrected, unable to explain why she felt the urge she had to.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Who."

As Hermione sipped her tea absently, Harry was mentally warring with himself. Sometimes, when it came to this new Hermione, the one that was born from the war, he wasn't quite sure what to do with her. Logically, he knew she was still his best friend. But sometimes…sometimes he'd look into her eyes and she seemed as though she had lived for a thousand years. He knew that the war had taken its toll on everyone, but Hermione was someone who felt everything so passionately. It had broken something inside her. And he wanted desperately to fix whatever it was, but somehow he knew he wouldn't be the one to do it.

"Do you want to go see him?" Harry wondered hesitantly. Though he was staring determinedly at his tea, he could still feel her eyes on him. "You don't have to. I just thought maybe-"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"No."

Her second no was said with considerably less confidence. Harry smiled at her in understanding. "I get it. I really do. It's a little too weird for me too right now. Just know that if for some reason you want to, I can get you there."

* * *

As it turned out, she did not need Harry Potter to get her there.

For the fourth night that week, Hermione jolted awake with a gasp. It was the same dream every time. Not quite a nightmare, but just as unsettling, if not more so. She flopped gracelessly back into her sweat soaked sheets with a shuddering breath. As she waited for her heart to stop racing, she came to a realization.

It was time to visit Draco Malfoy.

* * *

"Welcome to St. Mungo's. How can I help you today?" a chipper blonde chirped at Hermione. Whether the receptionist was horrendously oblivious or splendidly tactful, she didn't know, but the girl certainly didn't seem phased by Hermione's dark mood. Dread weighed her down so much, she wasn't quite sure how she was still standing. And though she was certainly dreading it, her determination and curiosity won out.

"I'm looking for a certain patient that I'm not sure I should name," Hermione started helplessly. It was only then that she realized she hadn't quite thought the visit through.

Before the confused receptionist could question her, a dark haired man swept into view. "Miss Granger, what a pleasure to see you. I was told I might be expecting you."

"Oh, um, thank you…"

"Healer Fray. I've become good friends with Mr. Potter. He trusted me with this particular case," he said, gesturing to his lime green robes with a kind smile. Her face lit up with recognition. Harry had often gone on about his friend at St. Mungo's. As an auror, he ended up there more than she cared for. He had gotten to know many of the healers well, but he had taken a liking to Marius Fray. "Oh, of course. He talks about you all the time. I should have known. It's nice to finally meet you, sir."

"Sir? Hardly. I'm only 30! Too young yet for that sir nonsense," Healer Fray chuckled. He waved for Hermione to follow him. "Now let's go visit that patient of ours."

* * *

"Merlin, I can't believe this is real," Hermione whispered in awe. She lifted a hand to the window cautiously, as if the illusion would shatter if she touched it. Her fingertips met the cool glass and she let out a shaky breath.

Beyond the window lay a barely there figure wrapped in a soft fleece blanket. His skeletal chest rose and fell slowly. So slowly. Too slowly. His once brilliant blonde hair was dull and lifeless, sloppily framing the sunken in cheeks, the hollowed out eyes.

"I don't understand. Even without what happened during…" Hermione trailed off, her honey brown eyes darkening at the memory, "Well, you know. But even for someone who wasn't already supposed to be dead, how can he be alive? I mean, look at him!"

Healer Fray nodded in agreement. "We have no idea. We don't know where he's been or what happened. We have no way of knowing how long he's been locked up the way you found him. We do know that he was put into a sort of coma. For what reason or how long, we don't know.

"What we do know is that he somehow managed to break out of the spell that originally put him under. An ingenious spell, really, to keep him alive, just barely. But he woke up. He must've realized he was trapped. And when in such distress, a wizard's magic can do many things in order to protect itself. I heard your explanation of what happened. That surge that brought you to its attention was like a flare. A cry for help. He wouldn't have known he was doing it. It's something the magic would do of its own volition."

"That magic..." Hermione scarcely breathed, her eyes squeezed shut as if to block out the memory, "It was in _agony_."

Healer Fray put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's alright. You found him. Now we can help him."

Hermione nodded, somewhat reassured, but still shaking off the chills that accompanied the thought of that magic. "Will he live?"

"Oh yes. Recovery will be slow, but he'll live. His quality of life, however…" Healer Fray trailed off.

Hermione ripped her gaze away from the boy on the bed to look at his healer. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he's woken up a few times since he's come in. And he stayed awake long enough for us to study a few more things," Healer Fray began. He continued when he saw Hermione's pointed look, "I don't know if it's permanent or what caused it, but as far as we can tell, Mr. Malfoy is blind."

"Blind?" Hermione echoed, her gaze drifting back to the boy on the bed. She thought of the cruel striking blue of their youth and shuddered. "Was it because of the coma?"

"We can't be sure at this point in time, I'm afraid."

"Is there anything else?"

Healer Fray nodded slowly, a troubled frown on his face. "It could just be how long he was under, I can't be sure, but I think he might also be mute."

"Mute?" That was harder for Hermione to accept than him being blind. Her school years were riddled with Draco Malfoy superior, haughty voice. The voice that spat venom and lied and schemed. For that to be gone was hard to wrap her head around.

"We think so. He's not said a word since he was brought here. I think he's been trying to speak when he's awake, but he's not been able to. He may just be too weak at the moment, but we can't know for sure until he is able to stay awake."

Hermione shook her head as if to chase the sadness away. "So, he's blind and mute?"

"I'm afraid so."

She was quiet for a moment, still staring into the room. Then, she wondered, "He's not deaf, too, is he?"

"No. He can definitely hear us," Healer Fray assured her.

Hermione couldn't help but think to herself as she looked at the sleeping figure on the bed. How could he be mute? She had heard him, hadn't she? When she found him. He had only said one word. But it was enough to haunt her dreams. That broken _please_ had all but undone her these past few days.

That word was what had brought her to stand outside his door.

Four nights. Four dreams of his startling blue eyes and that broken, " _Please_ …"

When she had woken that morning, she knew she had to go see him. Whether it was a sign, or just another nightmare, she didn't care. She just knew she had to see him.

"That poor, poor man. What could have happened to him?" Hermione murmured mostly to herself.

And then she cursed herself. Because by asking such a question, she had just brought it upon herself to find the answer.

"I'll be back, Healer Fray," Hermione said resolutely as she spun on her heal and fled the room, "I'll be back."

* * *

 **A/N: Trying to find time to write the last chapter for TDU, so here's another new one for Come a Little Closer! Hope you guys like it! Your responses to this story so far have been amazing! Thank you so much! Let me know what you think :)**

 **On a completely unrelated side note, after years of knowing it was a thing but not really caring, I started watching Dr. Who and NOWICAN'TSTOPHELPME! So, guess I was wondering if any of you lot were Whovians too? :)**


	3. Curious Things

_**Chapter Three**_  
 _ **Curious Things**_

And back she was.

Healer Fray had come to think of Hermione Granger as another fixture in the hospital. It seemed every time he turned his head she was there. She never stayed for long, she never spoke to anyone, and she never set foot in Draco Malfoy's room.

He thought that curious. She would come every day, never the same time, and just watch. She stood right outside his room, watching him through the window, stern frown on her lips. He had yet to wake up in her presence, and she had yet to venture in. It was curious behavior, but then again, this was Hermione Granger. He supposed she had long since earned the right to do curious things.

Some days she would stay and talk to him, but never about the boy in room 309. Never. But again, he shrugged it off and chatted away with the admittedly brilliant witch. He couldn't help but notice, though, that as brilliant as she was, he could detect a dimness about her. As if she had lost some of that light in the war. Everyone knew of Hermione Granger's story, but few had the privilege to be close enough to see what that story had cost her.

And being so keenly aware of this, Healer Fray took it upon himself to look after her the way she did with Draco Malfoy. From a distance, but with no less concern. So, when he caught her biting her bottom lip and staring at the door handle to room 309 like it might bite her, he smiled, quite pleased, and walked away as he heard the door creak open.

* * *

Hermione didn't know what came over her. She had spent days and days just observing him from the other side of the glass with no desire to step any closer. Just silent, distant observation. But then, one moment, out of the blue, it wasn't enough. Suddenly, she didn't want to be in the room with him. She _needed_ to be.

But despite this sudden need, Hermione still hesitated. Because she was still Hermione Granger, after all, and she was no fool. She knew what setting foot in that room would mean. From her spot outside his window, she was safe. As she stated before, an observer. Free to step away at any moment. But entering his room? The second she did so would mean she was involved for good. Whether he knew it or not, she would. She would know that she wouldn't be able to separate herself from whatever this was.

She had been wanting something to silence all her thoughts, all her memories. She just hadn't imagined anything quite like this. But she knew it was already too late. The decision to enter his room or not had already been made. That moment she caught sight of those unseeing eyes she knew the answer was going to be yes.

And so, with a solidified determination, Hermione gently pushed the door to room 309 open.

Nothing earth shattering happened. It was a feeling of déjà vu that washed over Hermione. It felt much the same as the morning after she had found him. For such a monumental moment for her, it seemed it was yet again insignificant. Instead, there was just a quiet hum from the equipment and the soft click of the clock's hand on the wall.

Hermione stayed pressed up against the wall for a moment or two, as if she wanted to be ready to flee at a seconds notice. But then she reminded herself that she had stepped inside. It was too late for her to run. So, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, she ventured closer.

She didn't sit by his bedside during that first visit, nor the next few following it. That felt too personal. Something a friend or family would do. She was neither, yet she felt she was still _something_.

His skin was still the color of snow, a drastic contrast from the dark purple under his eyes. She didn't know how anyone so thin could still be breathing. It was horrifying. It was fascinating. It was heartbreaking.

She left shortly after she entered.

* * *

In the years since the final battle, Hermione had become a little less focused and a little more scatterbrained. Not in a way that would suggest she had somehow become less intelligent but rather in that she tended to flit from one task to another, from one interest to the next. Her tunnel vision focus had broadened, leaving her to indulge herself in many things at once.

One of these flitting interests had led to her purchase the run down Flourish & Botts that had barely survived the war. With the rewards she had received from the ministry for her service against Voldemort and his death eaters, Hermione bought the place and brought it back to life like a phoenix reborn from the ashes. In reality, she knew it was not quite that glorious, but she loved books and so it was glorious to her.

It kept her mind busy in the past year, restocking, rebuilding. When she had returned from Bill and Fleur's she had needed something to do. And then she was walking down Diagon Alley and it was there calling to her.

Uninterested in the Ministry jobs the world had expected of her, Hermione relied on the bookstore for income and worked there when she pleased. When something else caught her intrigue, she would wander away for days to weeks at a time before returning. She was never too far, though, with her flat being directly above the shop.

Draco Malfoy had been the most recent of those intrigues. She had stayed away from the shop for at least two weeks. Not the longest she had been away, but the longest in the past few months. And as such, her workers were pleasantly surprised to find her settled behind the front desk with her nose in a book the next morning.

"Shh…What an amazing moment we have. This is a true privilege. We seem to have spotted the elusive Hermione Granger. She's a rather rare creature, with sightings few and far between, known to show herself only when-"

"Are you quite finished, James?" Hermione asked dryly, flicking her gaze up from her book with a wry smile.

The ginger Australian grinned shamelessly as he approached the desk. He drew her into an excited side hug before snatching her muffin and darting off.

"Oi, you dirty thief!" she cried out in exasperation.

Left in the touchy feely Aussie's wake was the mousy girl Hermione had hired the day she bought the store. Lottie had seen Hermione exit the store and couldn't resist asking her if the book shop had reopened. Hermione had seen the hopeful excitement in the girl's eyes and made a split second decision to hire her on the spot. It hadn't quite been the answer Lottie was expecting, but she accepted the offer gratefully.

The small girl was only 19, but sometimes Hermione felt she was more mature than even her. James, on the other hand, was 24 and the most outrageous flirt she had ever met. But he was also the sweetest and happiest man she had ever known. He wandered into her shop just days after the reopening. She honestly thought he had been lost. After all, he didn't seem the type to surround himself with books, but she soon found out his passion for them rivaled her own. And his infallible bubbliness had a positive effect on her during some of her darkest days.

And so she assembled their little crew, her, James, and Lottie. They had become great friends in the year she had known them, and they were always interested in where she often disappeared to. But this time it was different. She always told them what she was doing, but she had disappeared with no explanation. That wasn't like the Hermione they knew.

James braved Hermione's wrath for the sake of solving their little mystery. He and Lottie circled the desk with expectant faces. She knew exactly what they wanted to know but found herself unwilling to share. Talking about it out loud would make it real. And even though it had been weeks, it still didn't feel real to her.

"Aw, come on, you've got to tell us, Mi!" Lottie exclaimed, putting on an excellent pout. James nodded vigorously in agreement.

"I really don't know how to explain it. Or if I'm even allowed actually," Hermione admitted, suddenly wondering what the world knew of the fate of Draco Malfoy.

James put on his best puppy dog face. "Please?"

Hermione frowned as she attempted to come up with an explanation. At long last, to the satisfaction of her two friends, Hermione spoke up. "Well, I was out helping Auror Rose again-"

"Oh, we both know what that means," James said suggestively with a saucy wink.

She set him straight with an effective glare. "You two both know that is not, nor has ever been, a thing."

"But we both know you want it to be!" Lottie giggled. Hermione blushed a fierce scarlet. "I do not! It's strictly platonic between the two of us I'll have you know. And if you two keep at it, I won't tell you a thing," she informed them firmly. As she suspected, it shut them up immediately. "Anyway, I was helping Auror Rose and a few others and I happened to find something rather shocking."

"What? What was it? A dragon? A mermaid? No! A muggle?" James blurted out excitedly.

Hermione waved his guess off. "Not at all. I found a person. Someone who I watched die during the final battle. But somehow, I found them alive. I don't understand how it could be possible. It shouldn't be. But I've been visiting St. Mungo's to see them. Happy?"

"Whoa," they said simultaneously.

"Yes. Whoa indeed," Hermione agreed tiredly. "Anyway, enough of that. I've come to work, so let's get to it!"

She smiled at their pretend groans and dragged them upstairs.

* * *

"You might try talking to him, you know."

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected voice. With a hand over her racing heart, she spun to find Healer Fray smiling apologetically at her. "Oh, Healer Fray, you scared me."

"Oh, call me Marius. I've think we've reached first name basis, don't you?" he chuckled. She nodded readily. "Of course."

"I'm sorry for scaring you. And I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, but I've been watching you. I know you've been coming in to see him. I'm only here to say that if you're going to stand in here, why not try talking to him? Maybe it'll coax him awake. Just a thought." And with that, he was gone.

"Talk to him?" Hermione thought out loud. "I don't really have anything to say to you, Malfoy."

She rounded his bed, gazing down at the sleeping boy. He was still barely more than a skeleton wearing a coat of skin, but he was very subtly gaining some color. "I mean, I suppose I should have a lot to say to you," she realized aloud, "After all, you're dead. That is, I saw you die. So I should be asking you how you're here. Alive. But you're not even awake. And you barely look alive. Merlin, you're so pale."

For the first time in her many, many visits, Hermione found herself sinking into the chair beside his bed.

She stared at his gaunt face intently as if she could will him awake with her gaze alone. "I should want to know how you're alive, Malfoy. But honestly, it's just a bit of a relief to know that there was one less death caused on that day. You've survived, impossibly, I might add, but that's a victory in my book. Now, all that's left is for you to wake up."

But he did not. And he would not for some time.

But as Hermione rose to leave, she paused in the doorway and turned back to the boy in the bed. She couldn't explain why she said it, but the words came rolling off her tongue on their own. "I'll see you tomorrow, Draco Malfoy."

The door was already swinging shut when the fingers in his left hand twitched.

* * *

Harry was rather oblivious to his friend's visits to his former childhood nemesis. But she could hardly blame him. He was only twenty and he had the whole Auror department looking to him for guidance. He was only an Auror himself, not a head or anything, but they all saw the Boy-Who-Lived, not the real boy behind the legendary nickname. It was wearing him down.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sure it will get better," Hermione said encouragingly.

"I know, I know. But I've spent my whole life chasing after the bad guy or being chased by the bad guy. I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to make a career out of that," he admitted sadly. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into her side.

"I wish I knew what to tell you, Harry. I'm just as lost as you, honestly," she said, "But if you really don't like it, you don't have to keep at it, you know."

He nodded after a while, but it was hesitant enough she knew he didn't believe her. "Harry James Potter, if you think you have to be an Auror because that's what everyone expects of you, so help me Merlin I will beat you senseless."

He froze against her side before letting out a much needed laugh. "I shouldn't be laughing. I should be terrified. But you sounded so much like you did when we were younger I can't help it."

Hermione offered him a warm smile with a roll of her eyes. She shoved him off of her and jumped to her feet. "I'm not kidding, you know. Don't think you're off the hook. You shouldn't feel obligated to be an Auror because that's what people want," she said in a softer voice. His playful expression faded into a tired frown. "You've spent your whole life doing what other people want from you. Most things no one should ever be asked to do. So you shouldn't waste one more second of your life on it if that's how you feel. Besides, I always thought you'd make a great teacher."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," Harry said for lack of anything better to say, though he was thoughtful. A fierce Hermione always left him a little tongue tied, even after all this time. "Hey!" he called, realizing she was heading for the fireplace. "Where are you off to?"

"St. Mungo's."

"Why?"

"I'm going to visit Draco Malfoy," she said with a shrug, "Visiting hours will be over soon."

And then she was gone in a blast of green flame.

Harry Potter simply shook his head and smiled to himself. He should have known she couldn't stay away for long.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Good? Bad? Leave a review and let me know :) It means the world!**_


	4. Coming Back

_**Chapter Four**_  
 _ **Coming Back**_

"So, I was cleaning up the last storage room in the back of the shop last night-I know, I've had it a year and I still haven't finished-but I found the most amazing thing. On the highest shelf I found a book written by Merlin himself. Can you believe it? Merlin! _The_ Merlin! I, of course, stayed up all night reading it. I don't understand most of it, but I'm sure I'll work through it," Hermione prattled on.

When Marius had first told her to talk to the near lifeless Draco Malfoy, she had thought he was mental. She understood the concept, but thought it silly. But as she forced herself to talk at him, she supposed, she realized she didn't even care if it was helping him. Because for once, it was helping her. And she usually wasn't so selfish, but she couldn't resist.

After those first few forced words, they suddenly came pouring from her in a flood of thoughts and feelings. It was no secret that she tended to internalize everything that had happened in the war. And though he was asleep, she still wasn't about to let all of those thoughts out. But still, she chattered on about almost everything else quite contently.

"I suppose you would like it, too," she said thoughtfully, "when you weren't being so utterly hateful, I suspect you were actually quite smart. I mean, you always seemed good at Potions, and not just because Snape favored you. You'd have to be rather bright to do well in his class."

Lost in her ramblings, Hermione missed the movement on the bed in front of her. She carried on, oblivious to the change in the room.

"Honestly, you were probably even good at Quidditch, if only you didn't let Harry ruffle you up so much. I mean, really, you always looked good practicing." Hermione found herself blushing at the unexpected thought. "Oh Merlin, I definitely did not just say that!"

Flustered, she glanced up at the boy in front of her. She then nearly let out an almighty scream.

Just like that first time, yet another flash of blue greeted her.

He was not looking into her eyes, but he did seem to be looking her way. His head turned haltingly, as if he were struggling to do so.

"Oh my God, you're awake," Hermione breathed in disbelief, her heart ready to pound right out of her chest. She lifted a shaking hand up in front of his face, for once too focused to care about the tremors running through it, and waved it back and forth.

Nothing.

He really couldn't see.

And because he couldn't, she didn't feel at all guilty about backpedaling away from him like one might retreat from a wild animal. A sleeping Draco was one thing. But suddenly he was awake? She didn't know what that might mean.

She only felt guilty about fleeing when she caught a glimpse of the outstretched hand that followed her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she whispered as she slipped out the door.

* * *

"He's awake!" Hermione shouted frantically, crashing into Grimmauld Place. Harry merely glanced up from the paper he was reading, used to her unexpected entrances. "Oh my God, he's awake, Harry! What do I do?"

"What?" Harry questioned, slow on the up take at such an early hour. Any time before noon on a weekend was an early hour for him. He had only just dragged himself out of the comforting embrace of his bed.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed, a wild look in her eyes, "I was sitting there and then he-he woke up!"

Harry frowned in confusion. "Is that not a good thing?"

Hermione only gaped at him in utter shock. Suddenly, as if his question hit just the right button, her tensed body relaxed into a defeated slump. "I-I don't know actually."

Sensing his best friend's distress, Harry pulled himself to his feet and approached her slowly. He placed comforting hands on both of her shoulders and said her name softly. She reluctantly raised her head to meet his eyes. "Is that not a good thing?" he asked again.

"Now it's real," she whispered in response.

Knowing it wasn't what she wanted to hear, Harry reminded her, "It's always been real. You just didn't want it to be, did you?"

They fell into a tense silence while Hermione took the time to gather her thoughts. Finally, she said, "I _saw_ him die, Harry. So did you. There's no way he survived that."

"I know. It's impossible."

"Then how? How was I just looking into his eyes?" she demanded, starting to sound frantic again.

"Did he recognize you?" Harry wondered, curious how the boy would react to seeing the girl he had so often tormented. He was confused when she shook her head. "How could he not? Surely, he should know you."

Hermione shook her head again, her wild curls flying every which way. "He couldn't have. Harry, didn't they tell you?" she questioned, looking up at him curiously. She took his apprehensive expression as a no. "Harry, he's blind."

"What?"

"He was locked in that chest for who knows how long, he was kept the barest definition of alive, and he was blinded. Why? I don't understand," Hermione said mournfully, picturing the frail figure in her mind.

But Harry was hardly listening. All he could focus on was that determined gleam in her otherwise sad eyes. That spark that told him she wasn't going to stop until she found an answer. A whisper of pre-war Hermione. She was coming back.

When Hermione looked back to her friend he was grinning like a mad man.

* * *

"No."

"Hermione, come on, you said it yourself. How can you say no now?"

Hermione whirled on her friend with an irritated glare. "I never said that!"

The dark haired wizard rolled his eyes to the heavens and snapped, "Yes, you did!"

"I said that I didn't understand. I never said that I was planning on solving it myself!" Hermione replied indignantly. She was not in an excellent mood. As if her badgering workers weren't enough to test her nerves, Harry bloody Potter had taken it upon himself to show up at her work to nag her about it. It made no sense to her why he didn't care that she was visiting the former Slytherin until she stopped.

And stop she had after he had woken up that day. It had been five days since then, and she pretended that she had no interest in seeing him.

"He's awake now. Which means he'll be fine. So there's no point in visiting him now," Hermione repeated for the third time since Harry had crashed into her shop.

He looked like he wanted to give her a good shake. "No. There _is_ a point. If I learned anything over the years, it's that there is _always_ a point. His magic called out and you found it. So, you essentially saved it. Marius thinks that you visiting him has been helping bring him back. He just wants to see if you can help him. Hermione, I saw it, in your eyes. You don't have to say it. I know that you want to know. That you want to understand. So why are you giving up?"

James and Lottie were startled out of their hiding places when Hermione slammed the book in her hands down onto her desk. She pointed an accusing finger at Harry and ignored the eavesdroppers. For now.

"Harry James Potter, I am not giving anything up! It was one thing to sit with him while he was unconscious. But now that he's awake," she trailed off, her shoulders slumping. "Well, I wasn't exactly his favorite person, was I?"

Her true reason for her sudden distance from the boy finally made sense to Harry. She was afraid of his prejudice. No, not afraid. Never afraid of that. But certainly weary of it. It had worn her down more than she would ever admit.

"Well, he can't see you, right? And it's been two years at least…Maybe he won't recognize you just by your voice?" Harry pointed out hopefully. Anything to get her back on the hunt for answers.

Hermione's lips pulled into a thoughtful frown. That was a good sign if he'd ever seen one. At least if it was coming from her anyway. "So what? Are you suggesting I pretend to be someone else?"

"If that's what it'll take to get you back, then yes."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" she asked with a defeated sigh. She didn't like the satisfied grin that spread across his face. "Not a chance. I can take you there now."

"Lead the way, oh dear Chosen One," she said dramatically.

Harry rolled his eyes again and grabbed her hand. He pulled out his wand with a muttered, "Insufferable know-it-all."

He felt her give him a playful slap as they disapparated.

* * *

"Oh, look, Mr. Malfoy, it seems you have yourself some visitors this afternoon," Marius said with a delighted grin. The healer was bent over the boy in the bed but straightened when he saw the newcomers by the door. Draco did not react to his words. Whether he didn't care, or wasn't awake, Hermione couldn't tell yet.

"Come in, come in, you two!" Marius insisted excitedly. Hermione turned to Harry and gave him a somewhat uncertain nod. He took the gesture as a dismissal, and with a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder, he left her on her own.

Sensing her discomfort, Marius strode across the room and ushered her out the door. "Hermione, I'm so glad you've returned!"

"Mhmm," she hummed in response. "How has he been?"

Marius frowned. "He's been awake longer and longer, but he's still not talking. And some healers have found out the hard way that he does _not_ like to be touched. He went into a few fits before they realized what was causing them. I can only imagine why he doesn't like it."

"Don't worry, I was hardly planning on being touchy feely with a Malfoy. We weren't exactly friends, you know."

Marius chuckled softly. "Yes, I've heard stories about the two of you."

"Listen, Marius," she began seriously, wanting to get right to it, "I'm here, but if I want to leave, I will. And if I don't want to come back, I won't. Understand?"

"Absolutely," he nodded in understanding. "I'm so happy you're here. I truly believe you can help him. They're calling me crazy, but I think there's a connection between you too."

"If you say so," she laughed off nervously. "Are you sticking around?"

"I'm afraid you're on your own. I have to do my rounds. I'll be easy to find if you need me," he apologized before darting off.

Hermione stood in the doorway for longer than she cared to admit. When she finally braved the threshold, she found him asleep.

Or, at least she thought she had. Rather, she found a boy trying a little too hard to seem like he was asleep.

With a wry grin, she spoke lowly as not to startle him. "Pretending to be asleep so they leave you alone, eh?"

There was a sigh and then a single blue eye flicked open.

Hermione smiled to herself, amused by the childish antic.

"Quite honestly, I can hardly blame you," she said, hoping she was keeping her nerves out of her voice. "If I were you, I'd want to be left alone, too."

There was a silence in which she questioned why on earth she had let Harry bring her back there. "I know you can't talk. So, just nod or something," she instructed, wringing her hands, "Do you want to be left alone?"

Her question lingered in the quiet hum of the room. Both eyes were opened now. She watched his thin face expectantly. He showed no sign that he had heard her question. So, she asked again, "Do you want to be left alone?"

A single tear streaked from the corner of his eye before he squeezed them shut. And then, ever so slowly, he shook his head.

In that moment, Hermione realized in all the years she had known Draco Malfoy, this was the most human she had ever seen him. For some inexplicable reason, she felt on overwhelming urge to comfort him. She foolishly reached for his hand until she had remembered Marius' warnings.

With her hands folded safely in her lap, she asked another question. Careful to be sure she only asked yes or no questions, she wondered, "Do you know who I am?"

He shook his head again.

"Would you like to?"

A nod.

"My name is Jean. My parents call me Jeanie," she said. Hermione figured it was partly true. Jean was one of her names and her parents did call her Jeanie. She didn't want him to know who she really was quite yet. "Do you believe that?"

His pale lips twitched upwards in the faintest attempt at his old smirk.

"Fair enough," she accepted with a soft chuckle. On a more serious note, she said, "I'm the one who found you. Do you believe _that_?"

Whether or not he did, that had certainly grabbed his attention. The boy whipped his head in her direction and struggled to bring the rest of his body with it.

It was unnerving to say the least. The eyes that used to cut her like knives looking to her hopefully. And it was that hope in them that unsettled her, not the fact that they couldn't see her.

"Well, I did," she murmured, drawing her knees up to her chest on the hospital chair. "I could feel it. Your magic."

His unseeing eyes seemed to stare straight through her. She rambled on. "Let me tell you, the last thing I expected to find was you. You were definitely a surprise. And, I can't say I understand it, but I'm glad I did."

Draco rolled onto his back, his blank gaze once again on the ceiling above him.

"I'm sure they've asked you, but do you have any idea what happened to you?" Hermione wondered.

His face pinched sadly as he shook his head in response.

"Well, you're in good hands now. That I promise you."

A low hum came from the back of his throat.

"You used to talk a lot. I'm not sure I'm sorry you can't if I'm honest."

For the first time, Hermione saw a smile on his face. It was weak, on the verge of collapse, but it was something.

"Can you really not talk? Or are you pretending just like you were pretending to sleep? Because, honestly, I think that's something I would do if I didn't want to talk to people," Hermione admitted, surprising herself upon realizing the truth in her musings. "Now that I think about it, I kind of did that already. I just went silent if people asked me about…well, anyway. So, are you pretending?"

Weak limbs lifted his bony hands to his face. He rubbed his eyes in clear frustration before leaving them over his face like a mask.

"I'll take that as not pretending," she said aloud. "I'm really sorry, you know. About what happened to you. Whatever that is anyway."

He hummed again. She wondered if that was a good sign for the return of his voice.

"Are you scared?" she asked suddenly. She blushed feverishly, cursing herself for being so insensitive.

A slow nod answered her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered mournfully.

She chattered away at him about silly things for the next hour before she realized the time.

"Merlin, I'm so late. Oh dear, I'm so sorry. I was supposed to close the shop tonight! Oh, James is going to have my head!" Hermione exclaimed, amazed the time flew by so quickly. She rose to her feet but paused before she left. "Do you want me to come back?"

Hermione found herself growing fond of the low hums she came to associate with this new Draco Malfoy.

* * *

 _ **A/N: You can thank Fall Out Boy and Imagine Dragons for this update! One day, two bands, two new songs! April 27th has been blessed haha. Anyway, enough of that. But really, you should listen to them...**_

 _ **Lemme know what you guys think! I truly appreciate your feedback!**_


	5. A Little to the Left

_**Chapter Five**_  
 _ **A Little to the Left**_

"You know, I didn't give you a key to my shop and flat just so you could come here to avoid your workers," a bemused voice scolded mockingly.

Hermione merely groaned from her comfy spot on the couch, her arm draped across her eyes to block out the light. She raised it and blinked rapidly, flashes of ginger assaulting her. "Just five more minutes."

"Hermione Granger, what ever happened to that chipper know-it-all?" George Weasley teased, lifting her legs to place himself under them. His warm hands on her legs only made her sleepier. "You used to scold me like a child for taking naps in the middle of the day. Now, here you are, in my home, I might add, fast asleep at two in the afternoon!"

Hermione, realizing she couldn't ignore him, removed the arm from over her eyes. "But they're so nosy! I mean, I adore them, but honestly! My life is not a soap opera for them to comment on. And Harry's got his lady friend over, so the only place left to escape them was here."

"So, you're telling me that I wasn't even escape number one? I see how it is!" George said, doing his best to sound wounded.

"You know I love it here, so shut it," she tutted.

George grinned heartily, knowing it to be true. Hermione found great comfort in the Weasley clan after the war. The year she spent with Bill and Fleur had been good for her, and he welcomed her gladly whenever she showed up on his doorstep. Percy had been personally affronted when she turned down the job he had been saving for her at the Ministry. Charlie was waiting for her to come visit him and his dragons again. She was meant to be going to Romania in just a few months. Ginny crashed in her flat above her shop whenever she was in town. And as for Ron, well…Hermione had been too traumatized after the war to commit to a relationship. Ron had taken it gracefully, as he himself was shaken too. They had parted ways and he was off in France with a Muggle girl he had met last spring.

"So, why are they being nosy now?" George wondered curiously.

Hermione heaved a great sigh. "My visit to the Malfoy Manor last month…"

George's ever smiling lips pulled downwards in a disapproving frown. "I still think that you shouldn't have had to go back there."

"I know, I know, my knight in shining armor," the curly haired witched teased. He watched her face fall thoughtfully. "I found Draco Malfoy."

"Come again?" he said in disbelief.

"He's alive. Somehow. And I've been visiting him every day. And James and Lottie know the story, minus the Malfoy part," she sighed.

George, true to his nature, took this shocking knowledge in stride. "Let me guess. They think you're going to fall madly in love with this mystery man?"

Her eyes rolled to the heavens. "You know them too well."

"And I know you. How are you doing?" He knew that was always a loaded question with her. And him, too, he supposed. Hermione was his greatest support after he lost his other half. He did his best to return the favor, but as most people found, it was hard to give Hermione what she gave to them.

"I'm frustrated more than anything," she admitted, "I've gotten over my shock and denial for the most part. He's awake now. Has been for about a week. But he can't speak, and it's been getting to me. He never used to shut up and now he can't talk at all. One sided conversations aren't exactly easy."

"Really? You seemed to handle them quite well whenever you were trying to teach Harry and Ron," George chuckled. Her glare did not deter his amusement.

"And I know it's not just me. I can see how much he wants to respond. It only frustrates me more," she said sadly.

"Oh, please," the prankster scoffed playfully, "I'm sure you'll find a way around it. You always do. And honestly, I'm surprised you're so concerned with him speaking. I mean, half the time I'm convinced you can read my bloody mind!"

The lanky ginger jumped in fright when the previously limp girl bolted upright into a sitting position. "George! That's it!" she cried. She grabbed his face and pressed a an enthusiastic kiss to his forehead. "You're a genius!"

"Hermione?" he called after the retreating girl in confusion. "What are you on about?"

She whirled around in his fireplace, her honey brown eyes more alive than he had ever seen them, an excited smile splitting her face. "You're a genius, Georgie!" she repeated before going up in green flames.

"Mad witch," George said fondly.

* * *

"Hermione! What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Lottie exclaimed.

The mousy girl had returned from her lunch break to find her usually calm, collected boss tearing her shop apart. She had heard stories about how the witch's curls would take on a life of their own when she was on a mission. And Lottie had not believed them until she walked in to find it practically standing on its own. Like a chocolatey lion's mane, it nearly engulfed her.

"Having a stroke of George's genius!" she shouted gleefully, shuffling frantically through a pile of ancient dusty tomes.

Lottie looked helplessly to James. The ginger simply shook his head and offered a bewildered shrug. "She burst in here like a mad women an hour ago and she's been like this ever since."

Wary of their questionable boss, the two slowly backed away and returned to their positions in the front of the shop. They figured they would only intervene if she started getting dangerous. And knowing her as well as they did, it seemed likely that she would find a way to make books dangerous. After all, she helped bring down the Dark Lord with the Beetle and the Bard and that was only a children's book.

An hour later, Hermione bustled through the shop with an armful of threadbare tomes, eyes bright with hope. James and Lottie exchanged a concerned look but shrugged it off when she disappeared up the stairs to her flat.

* * *

" _Impertio cogitamentum_!" Hermione stated proudly as she burst into the room. She realized she should have been more considerate when she realized the blind boy nearly jumped out of his skin at her arrival. He held a hand over his heart, blue eyes popped wide.

"Er, sorry about that," she apologized sheepishly as she made her way over to the bed. His head tilted, as if he was trying to follow her movements. Over the past week, he had begun to gain more motion, his weak body still struggling to support itself at times. But he was improving, so she wanted to be able to speed that along a bit.

She had immediately noticed that he was feeling out his other senses now that sight was no longer an option. His hearing was most definitely improving. He was able to follow her general direction as long as she made some noise. She had taken to letting out little sighs every now and then, or shuffling her body or chair in order for him to locate her. It was slowly becoming second nature. She pretended it wasn't.

He still couldn't talk, and he still didn't want to be touched.

Two days after her initial visit, she had arrived just as a he was having his daily checkup. He was an older healer, clearly experienced, and that experience seemed to have put him on auto pilot. Because the moment he finished, he went to give Draco a reassuring shoulder squeeze.

It was like the man's touch was fire to the boy. The blonde tore himself away from the healer's touch with more strength than she knew his frail body should have. His unseeing eyes were flicking frantically around the room, so desperate to see it broke her heart. He curled in on himself, body shaking violently. She could hear the distressed apologies the healer was sputtering as he stumbled out of the room. He shared a momentary glance with Hermione before darting off.

Marius had said that there was nothing they could do to calm him back down. They simply had to leave him to himself. She found that heartbreaking. Especially when she now knew he had no desire to be alone.

"Draco?" she called softly into the room to announce her presence. The name felt odd rolling off her tongue, but she was determine to call him by his first name. She had seen him cheer up when she used it on accident once. The girl frowned when she saw him wince at her voice. She was smart enough to realize it was from embarrassment, not annoyance. "Can I do anything to help?"

He shook his head morosely, his body still trembling. She looked down at her own hands. They were shaking again too.

"I'm so sorry. I can't pretend to know what you've been through," she began, her heart weighing heavy in her chest as she thought back to the dark days she tried to forget, "After that day, that _horrible_ day in your manor…I didn't want to be touched either. But I couldn't tell them that. There was so much going on. How could I? But I could still feel her. Every time someone touched me. I could feel her hands on my skin and it burned. But I had to pretend like it didn't."

Hermione leaned forward in her chair and dropped her voice. "You don't have to pretend around me."

And so he didn't.

Which was why he had no problem acting so frightened at her abrupt entrance.

"Really, I am sorry about frightening you," she rushed, wanting to get to the exciting news, "But I'm just too excited! I think I may have found a way around you not being able to talk."

His blonde eyebrows rose in curiosity as he turned his head toward her voice.

"My friend gave me this brilliant idea that sent me tearing through all my books. And remember that book I found that belonged to Merlin? Well, I think I found a spell that might help. And I've run through my idea with the healers. They're not exactly on board with it, but they don't think that it will be harmful."

He gave her a wry look at her last sentence. She blushed, once again thankful he couldn't see it, and carried on. "It's 100% up to you. Your healers don't believe there will be any side effects, but they think you might be too weak from all the magic to handle it. I just wanted you to know that I might have found something."

He was still giving her that look.

"Merlin, fine!" she huffed, irritated that the blind boy saw right through her, "So maybe I haven't run it over with your healers. They'd hardly think it was a good idea, now would they?"

He nodded grimly.

"But I can see how hard it is for you not to be able to communicate very well. I want to help. Do you trust me?" she wondered.

Draco was thoughtful for a moment and she could tell he seemed wary.

"You don't have to. Don't pretend to just to appease me."

He let out a low hum that sounded like he was waving her words off.

"Can I tell you about it?"

He nodded vigorously.

"The spell," she started, her brilliant mind churning, " _Impertio cogitamentum._ It roughly translates to something along the lines of imparting or sharing thoughts. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

His hum wasn't very certain.

"It enables two people to read one another's thoughts. Not like an open book. Only the thoughts each one wants the other to hear. So, from what I understand, it's supposed to be like a normal conversation, only it's inside your head," she rattled off quite energetically, amazed even still by the wonders of magic.

Draco seemed to be mulling it over, impressed but still uncertain. She could see the wariness on his face and cursed his intuition.

"Of course…it's not that easy." His satisfied look irked her. He was too smart for his own good. Though, that had often been said of her, she supposed.

"I have no idea how this spell might affect you with the state you're in," Hermione said seriously. He nodded gravely. "But the part I think you're really not going to like is what makes the spell work."

The boy looked like he was physically bracing himself against the bad news. It surprised her how much personality he seemed to have without words to express himself.

"In order for the spell to work, you have to have some sort of physical contact," she explained in a hushed voice. Hermione winced as Draco seemed to curl into himself. "You'd have to let me touch you."

The hum in his chest sounded distressed.

"No, no! Don't be upset. I'm not saying you have to!" she insisted, trying her best to soothe him. "I just wanted you to know that there are options. You don't have to. Not at all."

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for far longer than she cared for. Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.

"Draco," she drawled out slowly as she tried to figure out the best way to word it, "You don't like it when people touch you. But…what if you touched them? Do you think being in control would help? That way you can pull away if it's too much."

She was met with a stunned expression. So, he clearly hadn't thought of it in that way before. She was kicking herself for not thinking of it sooner. Not being able to see, he probably felt completely helpless, unable to control anything.

"Do you want to try it?"

She was answered with a hesitant hand reaching out to her. In that moment, Hermione swore her heart stopped beating. She stared at his hand in dumb shock before she jolted herself back into the present. She held her own out, willing the tremors away with sheer determination. She didn't want the first bodily contact he'd allowed to be with undependable shaky hands.

"Just a little to the left," she guided in barely a whisper.

Surprisingly warm fingers brushed the skin of her wrist. He jumped a bit when their skin collided, shocked by the sensation. Hermione ignored the rapid rise and fall of his bony chest and focused only on the strength it took for him to touch her.

"Are you okay?"

A soft hum.

"Do you want to try it?"

A shaky but determined hum.

Hermione swirled her wand in a simple, yet elegant pattern and whispered the words, " _Impertio cogitamentum."_

If she was being honest, the spell had sounded so good to be true that she didn't expect much. She certainly hadn't expected a pleasant heat to swell behind her eyes. No, she hadn't expected much at all.

Certainly not the voice of Draco Malfoy inside her head scolding, " _Honestly, you find the writings of Merlin himself and waste his spells on a bag of bones like me?_ "

* * *

 _ **A/N: So, it's been a month...sorry. But life is a thing that exists, so don't be too mad. I hope you guys are enjoying it! Let me know if you are! Or if there's anything you'd like to see**_


	6. Rather a Mystery

**_Chapter Six  
Rather a Mystery_**

 _"Can you hear me?"_

 _"Merlin's beard! I didn't actually expect this to work!"_

 _"So, you just thought you'd use me as a guinea pig?"_

 _"Naturally."_

Hermione sat back in absolute wonder. She had seen Draco Malfoy's brutal murder with her own eyes. Yet, there she was with his hand on her wrist and his voice in her head.

 _"I never thought that I would be so relieved to hear your voice again,"_ she admitted.

 _"Again?" he echoed, blonde eyebrows scrunching thoughtfully, "You knew me? Before?"_

Hermione cursed herself before answering with a vague, _"Some time ago, yes."_

 _"Do I know you?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"But you don't want me to."_

 _"Yes again."_

 _"It's quite nice being able to talk to someone again. All the nodding and head shaking was getting a bit tiresome."_

 _"Are you still okay touching me?" she wondered._

Draco seemed thoughtful, his fingers gently flexing around her wrist. _"You were right. It feels better being in control."_ There was a falter in his thoughts that she could somehow feel. _"Not-not in a weird way. Just-well, I feel so helpless. It's nice to have a say in something."_

 _"It's okay."_

 _"Why are you doing this?"_ he asked suddenly. And despite the fact that she knew he couldn't see her, she still avoided his gaze. _"Doing what?"_

 _"Helping me? Are you someone important to me?"_

She couldn't help but laugh aloud at that. Her mirth died away, though, as she took in the lost look on his face.

 _"Hardly. Is it scary? Not being able to see?"_

 _"You didn't answer my question,"_ he stated pointedly.

 _"You didn't answer mine."_

 _"I asked first,"_ he retorted childishly.

She let out a sigh. _"I don't really know, honestly. I suppose I felt some sort of obligation after I found you. You're rather a mystery, and I like those, so I stuck around. I want to help you, but I can't really explain why."_

 _"Thank you."_

 _"You're welcome,"_ she responded, slightly surprised that he hadn't insisted on a more thorough answer. Then, taking a closer look at him, she scolded, _"You're exhausted. Why didn't you say?"_

 _"Because then you'd stop the spell. And I've been so tired of being silent."_

Hermione's heart fluttered in sympathy. She smiled sadly at him and said aloud, "Well, I'll be back tomorrow. In the meantime, rest up, will you?"

He nodded reluctantly and his fingers slowly slipped away. When they were gone completely, Hermione was hit with a fierce wave of vertigo. She fell to the floor with an ungraceful crash.

She could hear Draco's concerned hum above her groans. Rubbing her throbbing temples, she collected herself into a sitting position. She looked up to find ice blue eyes peeking over the side of the bed. Exhilarated from having been able to properly speak with him, Hermione burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.

Realizing she must be fine, Draco only shook his head and burrowed into his blankets. She was right in guessing that he was exhausted. And even though he was sick of sleep, he felt it tempting him yet again. His eyelids felt heavy, and even though everything was dark shadows, he fought to keep them open. He didn't want to say goodbye yet, even if he couldn't really say it at all. This mysterious Jean-he-knew-was-not-really-Jean was the only thing to break up the monotonous gray he had come to accept as his life.

"Sleep well, Draco," he heard her say as he drifted off. He smiled internally. He used to hate his name. It had brought him so much misery. But for some reason, the sound of his name on her lips made him feel lighter.

* * *

Hermione froze when she heard a disapproving voice clear their throat. She turned around guiltily, a sheepish expression already on her face, to find Marius with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Though he was only about ten years her senior, she cowered under his suspicious father like glare.

"What have you done?" he demanded calmly.

Hermione shook her head, feigning innocence. She dropped the pretense when she saw his pointed look. "I knew you wouldn't approve. And I explained it all to him and let him decide if he wanted to try."

"Try what exactly?" Marius wondered, his arms dropping to his sides. He glanced back to the boy asleep on the bed. "Hermione, you know he's weak. We don't know-"

"An old, old spell," Hermione cut in. "One that lets us communicate."

Marius' head whipped back to her with a look of awe on his face. "You two talked?"

"Sort of."

"This is incredible!" he exclaimed, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and giving her a gleeful shake. "Finally, we can talk with him! There's so much I have to ask!"

"No!" Hermione said forcefully. Her terse word stopped the excited healer in his tracks. His hazel eyes clouded with confusion. "But we-"

Hermione looked over his shoulder to Draco's curled up figure. She let out a sigh and returned her attention to the expectant Marius. "You can't tell anyone about this, Marius. Promise me."

"What are talking about? We have to! We've been trying to find a way to-"

"Exactly. Marius, no one can know how this works. Not yet. Not until he's okay with it," Hermione insisted seriously. He took a step back, indecision written all over his face. "That's a lot to ask of someone in my position. Why can't I tell anyone?"

"Because everyone who knows he's alive is desperate to find out what happened to him," Hermione explained as if that told him everything he needed to know. He was of the opinion that it didn't.

Marius rolled his eyes in an unprofessional manner, but he didn't care in that moment. " _Obviously_! Isn't that why _you're_ here?"

"You have to touch him," Hermione blurted out, feeling another rant coming on from the man before her. His eyes widened in shock. "In order for the spell to work, there has to be a physical connection. I'm afraid people are so determined to have him talk that they'll force it on him. He's not strong enough for that yet. So, please, until he's ready, don't breathe a word of this to anyone."

That was more than enough to convince the healer to keep silent for the war heroine. "So, you mean to say that he let you touch him? And he was okay with it?"

Hermione's lips curled up in the corners as she shook her head. "No. I left that up to him."

* * *

When George and Harry arrived at Hermione's flat later that evening they eventually found her fast asleep on her couch. Neither one of them noticed her at first. When their favorite witch didn't respond to her name being called, they searched her flat lazily. They only found her when they decided to wait her out, figuring she would come sooner or later.

Upon entering her living room again, they shared a knowing smile when they spotted a bush of curls peeking out from the lump of blankets on the couch.

Harry managed to squirm into a spot beside her before George simply scooped her up into his arms. He plopped himself down and settled her across his lap. Hermione came to with an irritable grumble.

"Morning, sunshine," George chirped loudly. She winced away from his loud voice but greeted them all the same. "Hey, boys."

Harry waved to her with a smile. He ran a hand through his unruly mess of raven colored haired and slumped back into her plush couch. George had a good look at the two of his friends. The ginger frowned and sat back as well.

"What's with you two?" George questioned, concern lacing his voice. "You both seem out of it."

Hermione mumbled something unintelligible into her blankets. Amused, George pulled them away from her mouth. "Sorry, what was that?"

"Used a spell…worked…tired," she mumbled through yawns.

George and Harry shared a look and chuckled. "Ever the eloquent witch, you are."

"Shh…" she yawned.

George craned his head around to get a look at the Boy-Who-Lived. "And you? You seem stressed."

Harry rubbed his face with his hands. When they fell away, his eyes were tired and his jaw was tense. "It's this Malfoy case."

The previously limp Hermione perked up at Harry's words.

"I'm not going to pretend like Hermione hasn't already told you," Harry said with a smirk. Hermione had the grace to blush. "But everyone in the office is in a frenzy over him. Everyone knows what happened to him. And they're all determined to be the one to crack this case."

"Is that not a good thing?" George wondered, helping Hermione pull herself into a sitting position.

Harry shrugged. "It would be if they went about it for the right reasons. Yeah, I mean, I hated the git back when he was alive. But even I think what they're doing is wrong. They're forgetting that he's clearly been a victim to something awful. They see solving his case as a way to boost themselves in rank, not as a way to help him. They're using his situation for their own gain."

"I still can't believe it's really him," George said. "It's not every day someone comes back from the dead."

"Quite honestly, I'd bet you 10 galleons that Hermione here has it figured out before any of us Aurors do," Harry joked. His tone was kidding, but George knew it to be true. She was one brilliant witch. And from what she had told him of visiting their former schoolmate, he didn't doubt she would have it sorted soon.

"Hardly, Harry," she disagreed, sounding somewhat more coherent than before. Her honey brown eyes were more awake now as she sat up. She figured it would be wiser to let the topic go before she managed to let her new secret slip, but her curiosity was once again a killer. "What about you? Are you working on it, too?"

Harry offered a noncommittal shrug accompanied with a tired sigh. "I suppose," he said, "but there's not much to go on. Not when we can't ask him what happened. The chest you found him in didn't help any either. We had cursebreakers studying it, but other than the expansion spell and the locks, there's nothing special about it. I'd like to investigate. I mean, he was a classmate of ours, whether we got on or not."

"What's the next step, then?" Hermione wondered innocently. Clearly too stressed to see through her pretend nonchalance, Harry frowned. "Nothing. Not until we can talk to him, I guess."

Hermione winced internally as her guilt clawed at her. She knew that she could trust Harry. Years at his side told her that she _did_ trust him. But something else told her to keep quiet. Just for a little longer. Soon, she promised, she would tell him soon.

"Well, then I think we should move on to a more uplifting topic and get to the Leaky Cauldron before it closes, eh?" George threw in energetically. "Honestly, if I let you two go on for too long, the mood is just downright depressing!"

Hermione struggled to scramble her way off the wizard before he could jump to his feet. She had been too late before and ended up in an indignant heap on the floor. Pulling Harry to his feet, Hermione rounded on George. "Leaky? Really?"

George offered her a cheeky grin. "Your favorite."

* * *

"Hey, you lot! This is a respectable establishment, we don't need your kind in here!" a deep voice bellowed as the trio pushed their way through the ancient oak doors. Harry, still so unused to attention even after all those years, took a startled step back, bumping into Hermione. Despite not wanting to go out, Hermione couldn't resist a wide grin. "Neville!"

The brunette attacked the impossibly tall man with a fierce hug. "Neville!" she cried happily, "I didn't know you'd be around tonight!"

He pulled away from her, face beaming, "Couldn't stay away, could I?"

"From Abbott, maybe," George teased heartily, grin widening at the blush blooming across the younger boy's face.

"Neville," Harry greeted warmly. He found himself dragged into a hug not unlike Hermione's. When he was finally released, he too questioned the boy's unexpected presence.

Neville shuffled somewhat nervously from foot to foot, fondly reminding his companions of the timid boy the brave man before them used to be. "Well, actually, I'm back for now. I finished my apprenticeship in New Zealand. Been back for two days, been staying here. I'm just waiting to start my next apprenticeship."

"Oh, Neville how wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, proud of her friend. She wrote to him often, their friendship only have strengthened since the war. Though she unintentionally distanced herself from so many, she had found it easier to open up to Neville. She heard from him almost weekly. But apparently not enough for him to have told her he had returned to England. "May I ask who this one is with?"

He gave her a brilliant smile. "Professor Sprout at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry," he announced proudly.

Neville was promptly showered in congratulations and cheers.

The other patrons in the Leaky Cauldron that night were either discontented with the raucous crowd of youths in their midst or in awe of the group of heroes simply celebrating life.

"Neville!" Hermione called out over the din of the crowded pub. She waved her hand frantically, gesturing him to approach. The wizard leaned in to say something in Hannah Abbott's ear before pulling away and dodging through the crowd to Hermione.

"What is it, Hermione? Are you calling it a night?" Neville wondered, head craned down uncomfortably in order to her whatever she had to say.

"Where are you staying?"

"Here," he shrugged, "I'll have to sort something out, I know. I've just been taking my time to find something."

Hermione gave him a pleasant grin and shook her head. "Don't bother. Stay with me!"

He raised a surprised eyebrow at her. She laughed at his incredulous face and said, "I've got a big flat above my shop. Plenty of room for the both of us. It would be nice to have some good company."

It surprised her how true her statement was. Perhaps she didn't enjoy her self-imposed solitude as much as she convinced herself she did.

"Are you serious, Hermione?" Neville questioned hopefully. When she offered him an enthusiastic nod. He scooped her into his arms and swung her around excitedly. "Thank you so much! You're such an amazing friend!"

"I know, I know. I'm wonderful," Hermione said dryly before letting a giggle escape, "Now put me down before you break a rib, will you?"

Neville set her feet back on the ground somewhat sheepishly, his face red even in the dimly lit pub. "Seriously, I can't thank you enough."

"Anything to support a friend, Neville."

Harry popped out of the crowd before he could respond, drinks in hand, his hair a riotous black mess. "Come on you two! The real party's in the back!"

Though she had followed him into battle without batting an eye, Hermione had a strong feeling she was going to regret following the Boy-Who-Lived that night.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Well, what do you think? I love to hear from you guys!**_


	7. Dark Discoveries

_Chapter Seven_  
 _Dark Discoveries_

 _"I'm sorry…are you_ hungover _?"_

Hermione let out a pitiful groan and rested her head on the very edge of his bed. She was willing her throbbing headache to have mercy on her, but she was having no such luck.

"Don't sound so shocked. I _am_ an adult," Hermione retorted, his judgmental tone ruffling her feathers a bit.

 _"Adults know their limits. When to stop."_

Hermione huffed indignantly, lifting her head to glare at him. "Fine. I'm an adult, but not one who drinks often enough to know when to stop."

 _"So what was the occasion?"_

The witch smiled softly at the thought of the sweet face of Neville Longbottom. "A friend is back from his first apprenticeship, and he'll be starting another soon. He's studying Herbology."

The blonde slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. His light grip on her wrist was sending warm waves of comfort up her arm and she resisted the urge to fall asleep. Her eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, and she just wanted to let them fall shut.

 _"What do you do, Jean?"_ Draco tilted his head toward her. She was taken aback for a moment, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. Her mouth opened and then promptly closed. Even though she knew he didn't know who she really was, she still felt some form of embarrassment over the truth.

"I own a bookshop and I do some curse breaking for fun. I have a lot of hobbies that keep me occupied, I guess," she admitted, hating how it sounded. During her Hogwarts years she had been called the brightest witch of her age. It pained her to think of what they would call her now. Another witch who failed to fulfill expectations? Over achiever gone sloth? It rubbed her the wrong way.

 _"A bookshop, huh_?" He seemed thoughtful, his mind miles away. _"I know a girl who fancies books. Wouldn't be surprised if she ends up with a shop of her own someday."_

Hermione's cheeks blushed a vivid crimson, the skin in contact with his heating up uncomfortably. "Listen, Draco, you should-"

"Ah, Her-Jean! You're here!" Marius exclaimed delightedly as he burst into the room. At the sound of the new voice, Draco ripped his hand away from Hermione. She felt almost a physical absence in her mind that his soft voice had filled, her headache coming back ten times worse than before. Her face scrunched up in discomfort, and she lifted her hands to her face. "Not so loud," she pleaded.

The dark haired healer smiled at her knowingly. "Fun night out, eh? I'll whip you something up right quick once I've looked over Mr. Malfoy here."

Hermione waited patiently for Marius to do his routine checkup, massaging her temple in the meantime. She rifled through her bag to find the papers she was meant to sign for Lottie. There was some mentoring program the young girl wanted to join, and she had listed Hermione as a reference. As she signed the paper, she found herself wishing for a mentor of her own. She felt rather lost these days, and everyone had always seen her as a leader, independent. Sometimes all she wanted was someone to tell her if she was doing things right.

"All set, Mr. Malfoy. I'll be back tonight unless you need me for something before then," Marius said cheerfully as he grabbed Draco's file. He gave Hermione's shoulder a comforting squeeze on his way out the door.

She jumped when she felt fingers cover hers gently. Before he spoke, she could feel a wave of concern hit her that wasn't her own. " _Are you alright?"_

A few seconds passed before she recovered from her surprise. With an unnecessary fake smile, she replied cheerily, "Of course. Why do you ask?"

The corner of one lip twitched upwards into what was dangerously close to a Malfoy smirk. He shrugged, _"Well, you came in hungover and have barely said a word. Usually you talk so much I wonder how you have time to breathe."_

Hermione sent a playful scowl his way despite knowing he wouldn't see it. "You're sounding an awful lot more like your old self. You must be feeling better," she said distastefully. He let out a soft chuckle. Hermione watched his boyish grin fade into a grim line. _"You knew me before all this…did you-did you like me?"_

For the second time that day, she found herself taking longer than she should to respond. Finally, she told the truth.

"No," Hermione stated quite firmly. His face visibly fell. She risked reaching her other hand up to rest atop his. His body froze the moment her fingers brushed against his. However, he didn't pull away so neither did she. When he started breathing again, she made yet another bold move and twined her fingers through his. She started to pull her hand away entirely, regretting stressing him out, but his fingers tightened around hers as she did so. Smiling secretly, she held his hand as she finished, "You were mean. And childish. And far too prejudiced for your own good. And while I thought I hated you at first, it faded over the years. In fact, that last year I rather pitied you."

Draco's face screwed up into a displeased scowl reminiscent of those he made in the years she was referring to. _"Pity?"_

"Oh, don't be so sour," she admonished him teasingly, "You were the first to throw yourself pity parties. Don't act like it's a shock. I certainly didn't coddle you. Not that you'd have let me if I tried anyway."

 _"Did I like you?"_ he wondered cautiously.

"Merlin, no!" Hermione said with a hearty laugh. She expected him to have some snarky response to her laughter, not for him to sincerely say, " _I'm sorry for that."_

The brightest witch of her age answered him with an ever so eloquent, "Huh?"

 _"I'm sorry,"_ he repeated, squeezing her hand again, _"I know I was a foul git. It's not a surprise I was mean to you. I was mean to everyone."_

Hermione let out a nervous chuckle. "Easy there, Malfoy, someone might think you've gone soft."

He didn't let her down. His smirk came back to life as he retorted, "They'd like to think that wouldn't they. Merlin will return from the dead before a Malfoy goes soft!"

"One thing hasn't changed," she observed thoughtfully. He cocked his head in her direction curiously. Grinning ear to ear, she teased, "You're still a hopeless git."

A scarlet blush burst from his cheeks and lit his pale skin up with a soft rosy glow. A smile attempted to break free of the forced scowl on his face.

Hermione took a mental picture of it. The reluctant smile suited him.

* * *

Hermione was curled up quite comfortably on her couch with Merlin's ancient book perched carefully in her laps. She had left Draco that morning with the promise of returning the next day. As reluctant as hse found herself to leave him, she was looking forward to her new roommate's arrival. In typical Hermione fashion, however, she was so deeply focused on translating some runes on the bottom of the page that she almost missed the hesitant knock on her front door. When the sound finally pulled her out of her studies, she flew to the door, practically bursting with excitement.

Opening it anxiously, she attacked the guest with a ferocious hug. "Neville! Oh Merlin, I'm so glad you're here!"

The shy wizard staggered under the unexpected embrace, but caught her in a warm albeit confused hug. She clung to him like she hadn't seen him in years. "Hermione, hello! Are you-are you alright?" he couldn't help but ask. He could feel her shaking ever so slightly. Her curls invaded his face as she tucked hers against his chest, but he didn't really mind.

"I'm happy you're here," she admitted. Too embarrassed to say it to his face, Hermione simply squeezed him tighter and sighed, "I'm really tired of being alone."

Neville, having been smart enough to realize that he was the only one privy to her true feelings since the war, held her firmly in response. It wasn't lost on him that she found it easy to express herself through their letters. He felt honored to be entrusted with the one and only Hermione Granger's thoughts. And he couldn't deny that she had returned the favor and kept him sane more often than he'd like to admit.

"You know I'll always be there for you, Hermione," he said sincerely as she tugged him inside her apartment. She smiled fondly at him, her haze eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "I know, I know. It's been a trying couple of days, if I'm honest. I know I'm being emotional."

Neville rolled his eyes. "Don't say that like it's a bad thing."

"Fine, fine," she said waving off his disapproving tone. "Anyway, this will be your room. The bathroom is the last door on the left, and there are extra blankets and things in the closet at the end of the hall. I admit, there's not much in the kitchen at the moment. I've been a bit…caught up in something lately, and I've let a lot of things slip."

Neville shrugged it off as he collapsed onto the couch in an exhausted heap. "No judgments here. I can't cook to save my life, so it doesn't really matter."

From his seated position, he craned his neck to look up at her. He seemed wary as he caught her sly expression. "Is that why you spend so much time hanging around Leaky? For the _food_?"

Neville scowled playfully as his cheeks flamed a painful red. He halfheartedly tossed a throw pillow at her. "Oh, not you too!"

Hermione couldn't resist. She poked at the embarrassed boy, suddenly overwhelmed by how much she had missed his unassuming character. "My wittle Neville is in lurveee!"

"Sod off, Hermione!" he said with a stern voice. But he couldn't keep his face straight for more than a second before he broke out into laugh.

"Don't worry, Snake Slayer," Hermione teased as she settled onto the couch beside him, "I'll help you get the girl."

Neville rolled his eyes as a deep red brush crept up his cheeks. Hermione ruffled his messy brown locks with a gentle laugh. "It won't be hard, Neville. It's fairly obvious she likes you."

"I don't know," he said, his gaze on the floor. "It might not work out. I mean, I've been gone for months and I'm leaving for Hogwarts soon. What if it's too much?"

Hermione offered him an amused smile. "You're a wizard, Neville. You can pop in and out of here in seconds. You can't use the long distance excuse."

"Fine, maybe I'm just scared," he admitted rather sheepishly.

"Scared of a girl? What are you? 13?"

His face soured playfully and he shot her a knowing look. "Well, I hardly see you chasing after any blokes. What's that about then, hmm?"

A rosy pink spread across Hermione's cheeks this time. "Maybe no one has caught my eye."

"I dunno, I heard about a certain Auror Rose..." Neville started devilishly. Hermione's eyes widened comically in surprise. "How do _you_ know about him?"

"Ah, so not denying it then?"

Hermione crossed her arms in a flustered huff.

With a hearty laugh, Neville pulled her in a content side hug as the two caught up on the latest news in their lives. As the hours wore on, however, Hermione struggled to find news of her own. She realized that very little had happened to her that didn't in some way involve Draco Malfoy. She almost came clean to Neville about him but stopped herself at the last moment.

She was too tired to start in on such an important matter so late at night. Hermione had no idea how he would take the news, and she was having too nice a time hearing about his New Zealand adventures to ruin it.

And so as she snuck away to St. Mungo's the next morning before he woke up, she promised herself she would tell him when she returned. If he was going to be sharing her flat, she felt she owed him an explanation of where she would be spending most of her time. She couldn't deny it any longer. Over the weeks, she had fully accepted that Draco Malfoy was her new focus.

* * *

 _"So, why the bookshop?"_ he asked, carrying on their conversation from the day before.

Hermione shrugged until she caught herself. "Well, I never finished school. I mean, I suppose I could've sat my exams, but I was just so tired after the war and all. And then-"

 _"War?"_

His voice in her mind was a choked whisper.

Hermione sat up straight in her chair, her gaze moving from his hand to his face. His unseeing eyes were staring ahead, his brows pulled together in a worried knot. Frowning, she elaborated, "Yes, Draco. The war. I was too tired afterwards to feel like finishing school, so I decided to just simply be for a while. I traveled a bit and then saw the shop for sale and bought it."

But he wasn't hearing her at all. The clear worry on his face was distressing to say the least. It scarcely looked like he was even breathing, still as a statue staring into the darkness. " _War?"_ he repeated, his voice still barely a murmur. " _W-who won_?"

"The good guys, obviously," Hermione tried teasing. She could feel the panic beginning to creep up on her, its dreadful claws digging into the recesses of her mind. "Kind of hard to forget the downfall of Voldemort. What are you playing at?"

She felt his presence ripped forcefully from her mind at the mention of the dark wizard. Draco tore his hand away from her as if it burned and scrambled to get away.

"Draco? Draco, it's okay!" she found herself gushing frantically. He was looking about blindly, fear taking over his pale features. "He's dead! I swear he's dead!"

It took several long, agonizing moments, but she eventually managed to calm the boy down enough to get him to grab her hand again. She didn't want to ask the question burning in her mind, but she didn't think she could keep it in either. She was smart enough to know that the answer to it could change everything.

"Draco, he's dead. His followers have been rounded up and put in Azkaban. I promise that you are safe. You have nothing to be afraid of now," Hermione said reassuringly. His hand was on her wrist again, but his voice was silent in her mind.

The curly haired witch closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. Steeling herself, she formed her question. "Draco…how old are you?"

Silence.

Then, she rephrased her question. "Okay, the last thing you remember…what was it? _When_ was it?"

Draco's eyebrows pulled into a perplexed v as he thought about his answer. Not only could she see his readiness to answer fade to a nervous uncertainty, but she could feel it. She could see the rise and fall of his chest grow more rapid as signs of worry crossed his face. She could feel his surety shrivel up as he tentatively answered, _"I-I remember fifth year and the summer. I was…I was 16."_

"Oh sweet Merlin," Hermione breathed.

That time it was Draco who had her presence ripped away from him. He fell back against his pillows when he heard the unmistakable sound of her fleeing feet. He resigned himself to another night of dark, lonely confusion.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Sorry it's been so long! I've been on the road showing my ponies all summer. Hope you like it!**_


	8. Not a Runner

_**Chapter Eight**_  
 _ **Not A Runner**_

Hermione, in the wake of the revelation that Draco Malfoy remembered nothing of the most recent wizarding war, retreated into her shop once again. Neville, unaware of what was happening under the seemingly solid surface of his friend, delighted in spending some quality time with her. He had to admit that there were times when he caught her staring off at nothing, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Concerned, he'd get her attention only to receive a brilliant smile and a new suggestion for the day's activities.

In his months away in New Zealand, he had cherished the letters he'd received from the witch in question. He had greatly appreciated the candor she had shown him. As he watched her cover up whatever was clearly eating away at her with such ease, he only then realized that the truths she had sent in those letters had most likely only been heard by him. It was a great responsibility he hadn't even known he'd been granted. And he suddenly felt like her well-being was his duty. Or at least keeping track of it anyway.

So, hoping he wasn't overstepping any boundaries, Neville arranged a lunch with Harry under the guise of catching up. Which really wasn't a guise. He did want to catch up with his mate. But Hermione came first.

"Neville, mate, so good to see you!" Harry called cheerily as he spotted the lanky wizard in the corner of the café. His excited pace slowed warily when he caught the worried look behind the smile his friend offered. With a sigh, Harry took a seat across from the boy and went, "All right, let's hear it. What's wrong?"

Neville's chocolate brown eyes widened in surprise. "H-how did you know something was wrong?"

"I'm an Auror, Neville," Harry said with a chuckle, "It's sort of my job to read people's faces."

Neville nodded in understanding. "It could be nothing, but I don't think anything with Hermione is ever nothing."

"You got that right," Harry agreed wholeheartedly. "So, what's the problem, mate?"

* * *

Harry had left his lunch with Neville in a foul mood. A mood that was only worsened with a letter from Marius confirming his suspicions. He didn't know when Hermione was finally just going to accept the situation they were in. This disappearing for days without notice was really beginning to wear on his nerves.

He had thought defeating the Dark Lord would mean that his life would be stress free, but then he would remember he was friends with Hermione Granger and that idea would wither up and die.

* * *

"I thought you agreed to stop running away from this?" Harry called out after the retreating witch. Hermione ignored him, simply waving her wand to send a cascade of paperwork to impede his chase. "Oh, how mature!"

"You have no idea what you're talking about. Leave it, Harry!" she shouted angrily as she stormed up the stairs to her flat. A wide eyed James and Lottie followed the arguing pair as far as they dared before Harry shook his head at them. Worried for their dear boss, they slunk back to the front of the shop to accommodate the startled customers.

"No, I won't!" he shot back as she burst into her flat. "You told me yourself that you didn't give up. I don't understand why we're having this conversation again."

Rounding on him in a terrifying fury, her monstrous curls a body of their own, Hermione growled, "Because you never know when to leave well enough alone. You never have!"

"Well, _sorry_ , but I'm only doing this for you!" Harry insisted in frustration.

Hermione let out a harsh laugh, and Harry hated the stubborn glare she shot at him. He knew her well enough to realize it was covering up her fear. "Oh, how silly of me! Of course continuing this madness is good for me. It has _nothing_ to do with the fact that you're so desperate to solve the case yourself!"

Harry bit back a scathing remark and adopted a softer tone. "No, Hermione. I want to solve this because someone has seemingly come back from the dead, and we have no idea how. It's not for personal gain, and you know that."

Hermione let out an irritable shriek before shouting, "I don't care! I don't care, Harry Potter. For you, for me, for any of those bastards trying to take this case! I just don't care!"

The Boy-Who-Lived took a step back from his childhood friend, almost scared of the furious stranger before him. His exasperation faded away into genuine concern. He hadn't ever seen Hermione so angry. Even in all of their wild escapades, he had never seen her so ready to burst at the seams. He didn't know this Hermione, and he didn't know how to handle her. It was like postwar Hermione all over again. He hadn't known what to do with the reclusive, lost ghost that seemed to have taken over his bubbly friend then either.

"Hermione," he said gently. Her eyes were locked furiously at the floor, her fingers curled into tight fists at her sides. "Hermione," he repeated, urging her to look at him. She wouldn't. "What's really wrong here? Why are you so angry?"

Finally, she lifted her eyes to meet his. Unsurprisingly, he found them brimming with tears. He was shocked, however, when she collapsed in a heap on her knees. "I'm s-so scared, Harry," she sobbed harshly.

Momentarily frozen, Harry could only hover in a panic. Then, his senses kicked in and he dove to the floor beside her, scooping her shaking body into his arms. "Oh, Hermione, don't cry. You know I never know what to do with you when you cry," Harry chuckled halfheartedly in an attempt to console her. A strangled laugh found its way into her ragged sobs and she clung tighter to him. He let out a sad sigh and allowed her wild curls to overwhelm his senses.

"Why are you scared? What happened?" he questioned when her tears quieted somewhat. She was too embarrassed to face him, so she kept her face tucked in the crook of his neck as she tried to form a coherent thought. Expecting her silence but not enjoying it, Harry tried again. "Come on, Mione. You know I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

He felt her release a shuddering sigh before she slowly detangled herself from him. As she sat back in a limp heap of limbs, a panicked expression on her delicate features, Harry felt his heart squeeze uncomfortably. The girl before him was the family he never got to have. And to see her so lost absolutely killed him. "You know nothing you can say will get me to leave this alone, so I mean, we'd both be saving each other time if you just talked to me now."

She shoved him playfully with her foot, though the knowing smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Harry figured it was a good enough start. He used the edge of his sleeve to wipe off the straggling tears and sat back to wait for her. She sniffled and started playing with the hem of her Wealsey sweater.

"You have to promise to listen to me first and be mad at me later, okay?" Hermione started in a rough voice. She coughed to clear her throat before she looked up to meet his eyes. He looked wary already, not sure he was going to like where she was headed.

"I promise, even though something tells me I might regret it," Harry sighed in resignation.

She offered him an apologetic half smile. White teeth worried her bottom lip before she blurted out, "He doesn't remember it."

"What?"

"The war, Harry. He doesn't remember any of it!" she cried, the panicky feeling she'd been fighting off since she had left Draco's bedside threatening to overwhelm her again.

Harry's mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. His dark brows furrowed in confusion before he finally settled on, "I'm sorry. H-how do you even _know_ that?"

The brunette couldn't look her friend in the eyes as she mumbled something under her breath. He asked her to repeat herself, so she reluctantly did. "I may have figured out a way to communicate with him..."

When she was met with a solid silence, Hermione risked a glance his way. Stormy emerald eyes met her own, and rather than waiting for him to blow up, she cut in, "You promised not to be mad, remember?"

Harry clenched his jaw in frustration but released it with a reluctant nod. "I did, I did."

"Anyway, I mentioned something about not going back to school after the war. And it set him off. I said Voldemort's name and you'd have thought I burned him," Hermione explained, her voice thick with oncoming tears again. "Harry, he had no idea who even won. It took me half an hour just to calm him down enough to leave."

"That's why you haven't been back?" Harry wondered. She nodded reluctantly. "What does that mean?"

Hermione threw her hands up in the air. "I haven't a clue! Nothing about this makes sense. But Harry, we went through so much. So much pain, fear, t-torture, and he doesn't remember a thing after fifth year!" She shook her head and drew her knees to her chest. Harry wanted to comfort her, but he had a feeling nothing he did would. He watched sadly as she stared absently into the distance. "Harry," she said in a small voice. "What if-what if whatever he went through was so much worse than all of that? So much worse than all the suffering we felt that it was overshadowed completely."

Harry dragged her into his arms again, suddenly shaken by the tremor in her voice. "Is that why you're scared?"

She shrugged against his chest. "I don't know. Maybe? But I haven't even gotten over everything that happened to _me_ yet. How am I-I mean, what could I do-what could I possibly _say_ …"

"Hermione, no one is asking you to fix him," Harry told her, thinking he might have figured out what she needed to hear. "I'm sure he's not even asking you to. You have never put yourself first, and I'm not asking you to because I know you won't. But I am saying that he is not your burden alone. You do not have to fix him, you do not have to solve this. And you especially don't have to do it alone."

She sniffed and pulled away just enough to face him. "Then why do you keep dragging me back every time I try to run from this?"

Harry smiled warmly at her. "Because you are not a runner, Hermione Granger. You never have been."

Hermione rolled her teary eyes. "You're unbearably cheesy, Harry."

"But I'm not wrong, am I?" he asked knowingly. She tried to scowl but couldn't keep it convincing. "No. No, you're not."

"I know this whole thing is scary. But if you'd only keep me in the know, such as the fact that you can somehow communicate with the mute victim-" Hermione had the decency to look sheepish under Harry's pointed look, "Then I can help you get through this. We can sort it out together. Just like the old days."

Hermione huffed like she was going to argue until she just slumped over in acceptance. "Neville told you something was up, didn't he?"

Harry was about to answer with a sheepish yes when the very boy popped through the front door with an arm full of groceries. He froze when he caught sight of the tear stained face of Hermione and the frazzled Harry in a pile on the floor. He shot them an innocent smile, afraid he was about to get the verbal lashings Hermione had been famous for.

But to his surprise, she simply pulled herself off the floor and gave him a bone crushing hug. Confused as ever, Neville just accepted the embrace. If he knew her at all, then she would tell him what was bothering her when she was good and ready.

While she went to clean herself up, Harry and Neville did their best to prepare an edible meal for their shaken friend. Hermione later emerged from her room to find a plate of what might have once been chicken. She looked from the plate to the two charred boys and back again.

"Who's up for some take out?"

* * *

Hermione hesitated in his door way. Harry's presence beside her was calming, but she still couldn't keep her nerves at bay. From her viewpoint, it seemed that Draco was asleep, though she knew he often feigned sleep to be left alone. Either way, she knew she had to convince herself to go see him.

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry said quietly. She looked to him and his soft smile gave her the boost of courage she needed. "Though, you should know we will be talking about how you two can talk when I see you next."

Hermione blushed sheepishly and nodded seriously before turning back to Draco. She drew in a deep breath and took a step inside.

The boy on the bed didn't stir as she made her way to his bed. But she knew better. He was too still.

"Still faking sleep to be left alone? That's hardly the way to deal with things," she tsked gently, struggling to keep her voice even.

He froze in the ball he was curled up in before he slowly pulled himself up into a sitting position. Draco seemed like he was trying not to appear so relieved to hear her voice. She hated herself for it. Her selfishness had clearly left him alone and voiceless again.

She settled herself in the chair beside his bed and wished she knew what to say. In her struggle to form the right words, she almost missed the tentative hand reaching out for her. Hermione's heart tightened as she let her fingers slip through his.

She watched in fascination as the tension in his shoulders melted away as she felt his presence in her head.

 _"You've been gone for a few days," he observed in a soft voice._

"Yes." She did her best not to sound as guilty as she felt.

 _"I scared you, didn't I?"_

Hermione started, surprised by his sad tone. "What?"

 _"I should have known about the war,"_ he explained, _"I should have, right? And when I didn't, that scared you."_

She couldn't deny it. "Well, you're not wrong."

They sat in a tense silence for a moment. He had his eyes squeezed shut as if he were trying desperately to remember something that just wasn't there.

 _"Why don't I remember?"_

Hermione's heart broke. "I really, really don't know."

 _"What_ happened _to me?"_

"I really wish we knew, Draco."

He looked absolutely lost and it made her sick to her stomach. As much as she hated to relive it in her every waking thought, Hermione wasn't sure she would want the memory of her torture erased. It caused her so much pain, but at least it was an agony that she understood. It crippled her sometimes at the most inconvenient moments, but at least she knew _why_. She couldn't imagine feeling what she did but not knowing what caused it.

"Do you want to hear about it?" she wondered quietly, not sure what she would do if he did.

 _"The war?"_

"Yes."

 _"Do you want to talk about it?"_

Hermione let out a shaky laugh. "Merlin, no."

His mouth twisted into a sad smirk. _"Yeah, I didn't think so."_ Then, after another moment of silence, she could feel his hesitation as he asked, _"Do-do I want to remember it?"_

Hermione bit back a sob as the image of his mangled body popped up at the front of her mind. She almost gagged on it, not having prepared herself for it. It was a memory that she repressed at all costs. She never answered him aloud, but he felt her hand squeeze his tightly and he had all the answer he needed.

"We're going to figure this out, okay?" Hermione insisted, though whether it was for his or her benefit, she wasn't sure. "Together. We don't have to be afraid anymore."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hope you guys are still enjoying it! Sorry it's been a month, but I don't like to post until I've got the next chapter all written out. But that way you know there's another one on its way! Please please let me know what you think! :)**_


	9. Baby Steps

_**Chapter Nine**_  
 _ **Baby Steps**_

"Oh, thank goodness, it's you!" a witch in lime green robes exclaimed as Hermione stepped onto the fourth floor. Startled at being addressed so enthusiastically, the brunette jumped back in fright. The healer appeared sheepish when she realized her mistake, and approached more calmly.

Hermione had to crane her neck to look the tanned woman in the eyes. They were a gentle shade of gray that put her already frazzled nerves at ease. Below them was a long thin nose on a bed of full strawberry red lips that were curled into a welcoming smile.

"Hello, dear, I'm Healer Prestley. Healer Fray asked me to catch you before you got to our…patient," the woman explained, hesitating when referring to Draco. The two witches glanced around them for any prying ears as his seeming revival was still tightly under wraps. Or was supposed to be anyway. Hermione admitted she had done a rather shoddy job of keeping her secret, but for once, she wasn't much bothered by it.

Once the healer's registered, Hermione whipped her head up, thoughts taking a dark spiral downwards. Seeing the panic setting in, Healer Prestley held up her hands and soothed her fears. "No, no, he's fine. There's nothing to worry about! But Healer Fray has some matters to discuss with you before you see him."

Hermione agreed to follow the new healer somewhat reluctantly.

"I'll cut right to the chase, Hermione," Marius said the second she set foot in his office. She bit back the morning greeting perched on the tip of her tongue and settled into the chair he offered her instead. He carried on once she looked to him expectantly. "This is Healer Elizabeth Prestley. She specializes in rehabilitation. Not everything can be fixed with magic as you well know. Mr. Malfoy has reached the necessary stability to begin rehabbing his, well, whole body."

Hermione nodded, following along intently until Marius fell quiet. It was now he who looked to her expectantly. Confused, her gaze flicked between the two healers and she wondered, "Is that not a good thing?"

"Oh, it most certainly is, but there is the slight problem of you being the only person he allows to touch him. _And_ communicate with," Marius explained in an almost apologetic fashion when he caught sight of the fierce blush that blossomed across the girl's cheeks. And then, when she realized they weren't alone, he had to add, "And it's okay. I had to fill Lizzie here in on the whole talking but not talking thing. I mean, he's got to get better. And this might be the only way."

Ignoring the playfully affronted look the other witch gave Marius at the wildly informal name, Hermione furrowed her brow in thought. "You can't mean…"

"Oh yes," the older man said with a wolfish grin. "Hermione Granger, are you ready to start your Healer training?"

* * *

"This isn't _actually_ healer training, just to be clear," Healer Prestley reminded Hermione in a gentle voice. She could practically see the tension rolling off the smaller girl. After all, a large part of her job was keeping people as comfortable as possible.

Worried brown eyes met hers. "But what if I mess it all up? What if I'm his only hope? I mean, I can't be, that's ridiculous!"

Unsure if it would set her off or ease her nerves, Lizzie took a risk and softly said, "Miss Granger, if I may?"

Hermione nodded, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

"It wasn't that long ago that you were one of _England's_ only hopes. And you pulled through then. I think you can for one more poor soul," the witch said gravely, revere and gratitude hanging heavy on her deep voice.

She received a small appreciative smile in return, but Hermione otherwise skirted around the praise. She used to believe she did well under pressure. That she excelled under it even. But she wasn't sure this was quite the pressure she had in mind.

The two witches entered Draco's room to find him struggling to pull himself into a sitting position. Neither had made a sound as they stepped through his door, so Hermione cleared her throat to alert him of their presence. His pale face whipped toward the sound.

"You're a mess today. If your second year self saw you now, he would call you a disgrace," Hermione teased lightly as she crossed the room. She gestured for Lizzie to wait by the door for a moment. She looked back to Draco who was grumpily running his thin fingers through his now unruly blonde hair. "Oh, I'm only joking, you drama queen."

His face soured at that but she could tell that he was happy she was there.

"Sorry I couldn't visit yesterday. The shop was an absolute disaster! We're trying to get ready in time for the Hogwarts rush, but time's running out and there's so much to do," Hermione rushed, momentarily forgetting she had a goal.

It came back to her when she saw his hand slide closer to her. When he came upon nothing but air, he frowned. She cleared her throat nervously. "You should know…we aren't alone."

As expected, his hand recoiled to his side and his face fell into a blank mask. She kept her voice gentle as she explained, "There is a Healer here. Her name is Lizzie and she wants to help get you up and moving about. She-she knows about it. She knows that we can talk. And she won't make you do anything you don't want to. She isn't even going to touch you."

Her last words caught his attention. He turned his blind eyes to her, not comprehending what she meant but unwilling to connect with her in the presence of a stranger.

Praising Merlin that he couldn't see the uncomfortably warm blush creeping up her cheeks, Hermione continued, "I'll be doing what she tells me. She'll be here, but I'll be the one doing everything. If-if that's okay?"

Hermione glanced over her should to find the witch in mention giving her two enthusiastic thumbs up.

With her attention called away from him, she almost jumped when she felt cool fingers gently circle her wrist.

" _Okay_."

* * *

"Well, I'm not the one who's giving up every time I fail!" Hermione shot back at the stubborn Draco. She sent him a dirty glare that she only realized too late was wasted on him and instead retorted, "Oh, fine. Not giving up then. Just pouting!"

Lizzie and Marius stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway to the young Malfoy's room with identical smirks on their lips. The past few days had been a whirlwind of taunts and murmured encouragements on Hermione's behalf, and a myriad of facial expressions from the struggling Draco. The pair of healers had been enjoying the show immensely.

"It's quite strange, isn't it?" Lizzie remarked, not taking her eyes of the young adults. Marius raised a curious brow in response. "I mean, I know we're only actually hearing one side of a conversation, but the way they react to each other…you can sort of fill in what he's saying on your own, can't you?"

Marius gave her a knowing grin before turning back to watch Harry Potter's best friend help Draco Malfoy walk again.

" _I am_ too _trying!_ " Draco insisted fiercely.

Hermione scoffed, "You've been letting me hold you up the past week, and I know you're doing it on purpose!"

" _I am not!_ "

"Oh, really? Then explain this!" Hermione demanded as she stepped out from under him. The warm weight of his arm across her shoulders disappeared and she waited to see the outcome.

Both Healers rushed forward frantically as Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest with a Malfoy like smirk on her face.

"See? Told you," she said triumphantly.

Draco scowled darkly at her as he managed to gain his balance and stand upright on his own two shaky legs. She didn't need to touch him to know what he had to say to her. The past few days had enlightened her to a plethora of dirty words she had formerly been unaware of.

Lizzie was shaking her head at the pair. "I'm useless. I have no idea what the two of them are thinking. But I guess something has been working."

"He's a wizard. He'll still take some time, but we heal so quickly. He should be walking by the end of the month, I'd say," Marius said, "And besides, from the sounds of it, do you really want to be the one doing this?"

The look on Lizzie's face said it all.

* * *

 _"Are you ever going to tell me who you are?_ " Draco wondered, his fingers curling around her own.

Hermione lifted her head from her paperwork with a frown. It had been easy to forget that he didn't know who she really was. Guilt began to claw at her heart for keeping him in the dark. Her only defense was that she had never planned on becoming so involved with the boy. Keeping pretenses was getting harder the more time she spent with him, however. She caught herself nearly letting her identity slip in her almost daily visits.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably before answering. "What do you mean?"

He gave her general direction a flat look. _"What do you think? I know you're not really Jean."_

"Well, if you know so much, who am I then?" Hermione questioned, hoping she sounded the appropriately affronted.

Draco's face twisted into a scowl not unlike the permanent frown that marred his face during their sixth year. Hermione hated to think of that version of him. _"I don't know,_ " he said, bringing her back to the present. _"But I know you're not who you say you are. Who are you protecting? Me? Or maybe you?"_

Hermione smiled sadly. "Maybe a little of both, if I'm honest."

 _"Will you ever tell me?"_

"What if I turn out to be someone you don't like?" she asked after a lengthy pause.

He shrugged his thin shoulders with a curious look on his face. _"I'd be pretty unlucky then, you being the only person I can talk to."_

Hermione scoffed at that and took on a playfully scolding tone, "Well, I don't have to be. You know you can communicate with anyone using this spell. In fact, I wish you would."

Draco brushed off his discomfort at the thought by teasing, _"What, sick of me already?"_

"Already?" Hermione retorted, "I've been sick of you since I was 11, Draco Malfoy."

Expecting a playful scowl, the curly haired witch wilted when she noticed his face fall into a somber mask. _"You aren't the only one."_

"What is that supposed to mean?" she wondered, twining her fingers with his reassuringly. He shook his head almost mournfully. It was not a Draco Malfoy she was familiar with.

" _I was so vile. I know I don't remember the last few years, but I can't imagine I was any less of a prick than I was growing up. I wanted so badly to impress my father. To be the pride and joy of the Malfoy name. I thought if I acted like him and talked like him, everyone would love me. Instead, I get snuffed by the Boy-Who-Lived as if I were trash and the whole of Hogwarts despised me,_ " Draco said with a disheartened sigh, " _I thought power was important, but I realized that craving for it caused everyone I thought I respected to act so cowardly. But I still didn't want to disappoint my parents. I love them. I'm not saying I would have been the nicest kid in the world, but I acted the way I did because I thought it would please them. But I was so tired of it..."_

"You were so withdrawn during sixth year," Hermione said softly, afraid of scaring him into another silence. They had yet to discuss the war and his part in it since the day she realized he remembered none of it. When he turned to her with an even look on his face, she dared to continue. "After your father was a-arrested, you were livid. But then sixth year came and you had changed so much. I don't think most people other than Harry and I noticed. And even then, Harry was only suspicious that you were a Dea-bad guy. You looked sick. I remember thinking you needed to eat something. You started skipping meals and you got thinner and thinner. You used to tease me quite badly, but I don't think you said two words to me the whole year. The biggest shock was probably that you quit Quidditch, honestly."

" _I quit Quidditch? You're joking!_ " Draco cut in, surprise evident in his tone.

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "What a boy! That would be what you got out of that!"

Unlike Harry, Draco had the decency to look a bit sheepish at her exclamation. _"Go on. What was I doing instead of playing only the most incredible sport ever invented?"_

Letting his childishness go, she took a moment to think about her answer. Uncertain how honest she should be, she finally asked. "Do you really want to know? I don't want to upset you."

She let him mull it over before he finally offered her a hesitant nod. _"I can't expect it to be anything good. I may not remember everything, but I know I wasn't on a good path before it all goes blank."_

"You were working on a Vanishing cabinet to let the bad guys in," Hermione said sadly.

She let his fingers slip through hers as he pulled them away. The unlikely couple sat in a heavy silence for far too long for the young witch's liking. It felt like years before he rested his hand on top of hers. " _It only gets worse, I'd imagine?"_

"Yes."

 _"I think that's all I want to know for now,_ " Draco admitted quietly. After another pause, he added, _"Thank you for telling me. And helping me. I don't think I deserve it."_

Hermione felt a surprising softness for him as she took in his haggard form. She risked a comforting squeeze to his shoulder that he took well. "You didn't deserve whatever it was that got you here. But you do deserve help, Draco. I know you don't want to hear anything else, but can I tell you one more thing?"

The blonde looked like he really wished she wouldn't. She did anyway.

"You made so many mistakes in your past, Draco Malfoy," she admitted truthfully, whispering in his ear as she rose to leave, "But you're also the one who saved Harry Potter's life."

And with a daring kiss to his pale cheek, Hermione disappeared into the crisp summer night.

* * *

 ** _A/N: So yeah, the story line doesn't quite follow along with the books. Bear with me, all will be revealed...eventually. Hope you guys are liking it! You're favorites and reviews mean the world to me! Thank you for sticking with it!_**


	10. Scattered Scars

Chapter Ten  
Scattered Scars

Neville Longbottom waited patiently on the couch for the return of his mysterious roommate. She had been coming and going at all hours of the day and night and a part of him was starting to wonder if he should be concerned. He knew she was a private person by nature, but she had always confided her deepest thoughts with him. After skirting around him for days, Neville finally decided to corner her the minute she flooed in.

The fireplace roared with an emerald green puff of smoke and a weary Hermione tumbled out. She dusted herself off absently, her eyes not yet having noticed the grim boy perched on the couch before her. With a heavy sigh, the witch raised her head and jumped in fright upon realizing she wasn't alone.

"Neville! Merlin, you scared me!" she exclaimed with a breathy laugh. Upon examination, she appeared tired to him, but her eyes were bright and her smile genuine.

He sat back, tension slowly easing out of his hunched shoulders, and offered an apology. "I'm sorry. It's just I felt like I had to make sure I didn't miss you."

Hermione knotted her eyebrows in a show of confusion as she collapsed into a heap in the comfy chair across from him. "What do you mean?"

"It's just that I haven't seen much more than the back of your head these past few days. You're always running off somewhere," Neville explained, unable to keep the tone of worry out of his voice. From their letters, he knew she hated being shown any kind of pity, and he certainly didn't want to offend her. "What are you up to these days?"

He didn't miss the faintest blush that colored her cheeks, but he had the tact not to mention it.

"I've got a new project I'm working on, is all," she told him, a rare twinkle in her eye that could only suggest it was something so much more. "It's very time consuming…and frustrating…and scary. But it's something I need to see through to the end, I think."

"But you're okay?"

The young witch and wizard sat in a companionable quiet for a moment or two as she mulled his answer over. During their exchange of letters since the final battle, both had admitted to hating such a question. The people who asked it of them never wanted to hear the truth of how very not okay they all were at the end of the war. Hermione and Neville had promised that whenever they asked each other that question, it would be answered with nothing but the bluntest, bare-bones truth.

"I think I will be," Hermione finally answered with a thoughtful nod. "I can't say that everything is perfect. There is still a lot that I'm struggling with. I feel lost most of the time. But with this, I'm scared but I've got a sense of direction again. Everything else I've been working on has just been to distract me. I tried to tell myself it wasn't, but it's the truth. This…project-I think it's more than that. I think it's starting to make me have hope again."

Neville smiled sadly. "I still wake up in a right state sometimes reaching for the sword. The last I remember are yellow eyes. "

"I still have nightmares too. I just see _her_ above me," Hermione said with a shudder. "But I'm handling it well enough, I suppose."

"Quite a mess, us lot," Neville said with a derisive snort. Hermione nodded in agreement. "We'll get there someday."

"Are you ready to start teaching?" Hermione wondered kindly, determined to cheer up their conversation. Her heart melted when she witnessed the newly somber man transform into his bashful schoolboy self at the question. "What? Don't tell me you're nervous!"

Neville ran his hands over his face, rough white scars forming a crosspatch design across the tops of his knuckles. She knew he hated them passionately and she frowned at the disgusted look he was giving them.

"I'm not scared, but I am anxious about it. I mean, what do I know about teaching? I was the worst wizard in our class for _years_! I get lucky with one snake and everyone thinks I'm a legend! They're in for such a disappointment. They're expecting some snake slaying warrior but all they're getting is a scarred clumsy oaf!" Neville fretted, hands tugging roughly through his dark hair. He buried his face in hands and let out a shuddering sigh.

Hermione leapt out of her seat and went to stand in front of the trouble young man. He groaned irritably when she pulled his hands away from his face. "Come on you, with me," she commanded forcefully. Reminded of the fiercely determined witch of their early youth, Neville reluctantly followed her down the hall.

"Hermione, what are we doing here?" he questioned once she stopped them in the bathroom. He knew better than to take back his admission, but he was wishing he could. There was no telling what lengths Hermione would go to in order to make him see reason. But some days he just didn't want to see reason. Those were the days he needed someone like Hermione the most.

"Take off your shirt," she demanded, arms crossed tightly in front of her, scowl on her face.

Neville's cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson and he took a step back, spluttering, "W-what? No, what are you-"

He squawked and fussed as Hermione determinedly yanked his pale blue shirt over his head.

"I feel like a child!" he whined, crossing his arms in an uncomfortable huff as he stood bare chested in front of his childhood friend. "What exactly was the point of you roughly stripping me?"

"Look!" Hermione directed calmly but seriously. He followed the direction of her pointed finger and scowled when his eyes reached his reflection in the mirror.

"Hermione, I don't want to look at that," he sighed distastefully. His pale skin was marred with the discoloration of a haphazard array of scars. Some were mostly faded, but there was no small amount of ever angry pink skin, burned and destroyed by dark spells. There were small, thin slices mixed in with heavy, jagged marks. "It's disgusting. I don't see what this is supposed to be doing for me. Hardly a confidence booster."

"Neville Longbottom, you look at those scars and tell me you aren't a snake slaying warrior," Hermione said fiercely, her eyes burning. He rolled his eyes, but she caught him off before he could degrade himself again. "You didn't get these scars because you were a _clumsy oaf_. You got these scars because you stood up for what was right, Neville. You were just a kid and you stood up to ruthless Death Eaters. You got them because you refused to let anyone else have them. What you did at Hogwarts while we were on the run was unbelievable. Some might call it stupid, but then, they're probably not from Gryffindor. You are one of the bravest people I know, Neville. And if you think for one moment that those kids won't adore you, you're mental! There are visible marks on you that show just how fiercely you care for people. Those kids will see them and have undeniable proof that you'll be there for them no matter what."

Neville found it hard to look her in the eye. It was hard admitting defeat to Hermione. Her logic was always so frustratingly sound. "Couldn't let me wallow for even a minute there, could you?" he teased halfheartedly with a shake of his head.

Her intense gaze softened into a small smile. "Not a chance," she said with a laugh. "And besides, the scars are good for something else, too."

Neville finally met her eyes, a somewhat wary expression on his face after he notice her smirk.

"A lot of women just love a man with scars. I know Hannah told me they were sexy."

The boy's face flamed red and he choked out a startled squeak. "G-give me my shirt, woman," he stammered before fleeing the room. Hermione's hearty laughter chased him out.

* * *

"I'm not so sure he's going to like this," Hermione warned gently. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Harry outside Draco's room. He had arrived shortly before on strictly Auror business. There were no words for the amount of relief she felt that it was Harry his department had sent to do this.

"He's going to have to if he wants some answers," Harry said grimly. Hermione nodded her assent and pushed open the door.

After so many weeks of her presence, Draco seemed to know it was her the moment she stepped inside. A small smile graced his lips as he turned his head toward her. She grinned in an automatic response despite knowing he couldn't see it. Shyly, she approached him, uncertain how to act knowing that Harry was watching her every move with his ever boyish curiosity.

"Hello, there. You're looking stronger today. I spoke with Lizzie this morning and she told me you could have the day off. She said you didn't have to hear her voice for a whole 24 hours," Hermione informed him with a teasing chuckle. The boy appeared to be pleased until he sensed an impending _but_. He frowned warily and raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Ever the trusting lout, you are," she sighed dramatically.

She couldn't deny that he was smart, though. Hermione hadn't announced Harry's presence yet, but Draco seemed to know they weren't alone. He made no move to grab her hand, instead crossing his arms defiantly.

"Fine. You're right. There's a reason she's letting you off easy," she said, looking to Harry uncertainly. He nodded seriously, but his eyes were soft as he recognized her nervous tone. "Draco, I have a friend here. Now, he _is_ an Auror, and he is here on official business…"

Draco made a sour face and inched away from her, his displeasure clear.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Hermione continued. "He's an old school friend, though. I would trust him with my life." Rather thoughtfully, she added gently, "In fact, I actually have. And he's always come through. He is not here to treat you like a science experiment like the others. He just wants to help, okay?"

Draco's fists were clenched tightly, his face twisted into a familiar scowl.

"There is a new spell that the Ministry has been working on. If you accept, my friend will use it on you. It is meant to uproot even the most expertly buried memories. It doesn't always work, but it isn't harmful. You won't feel a thing no matter if it works or not," Hermione explained slowly, ensuring that he understood. "He wants to help you know what happened. Will you let him?"

As she took the blonde boy in, she knew better than to think him angry. She could see past his irritable expression and find the worry behind it. Her heart squeezed uncomfortably as witnessed the fear behind his unseeing eyes. With a glance at Harry, she slowly reached forward to take his hand. He didn't stop her.

 _"Do you trust me?"_ Hermione questioned.

Draco's piercing blue eyes caught hers forcefully, and even though she knew they couldn't see her, she still felt stripped bare by their intensity. _"Trust you? You won't even tell me your real name."_

Hermione hung her head shamefully. "You're right," she said aloud. Harry watched in confusion as his friend became visibly upset. "You're right. And I know that's wrong. I'm sorry."

Hermione met Harry's concerned emerald eyes before asking again. " _Do you trust me?_ "

" _Yes_."

"He says he'll do it."

* * *

"What do you need for this?" Hermione wondered as Harry sorted through his worn leather case. He shuffled through some parchment in search of something. The raven haired boy pulled a crisp paper out from the depths of his messy bag and set it on the table before him.

"Just this paper work. We need to record the results as thoroughly as possible with this new spell," Harry said. "It's actually quite simple in practice."

Putting on a determined face, the Boy-Who-Lived turned toward Draco Malfoy, wand in his hand.

Harry shook his head, his shoulders tense. Draco sat rigidly on his bed, his face grim, eyes shut tight.

Hermione's heart cried out for them both. The last time Harry turned a wand to the blonde, he nearly killed him. And Draco…she didn't even know.

She stepped up behind Harry and placed a gentle hand on the small of his back. He turned to her in surprise but offered a grateful smile when he saw her encouraging face. She gestured for him to wait a moment as she walked over to Draco.

"Okay. My friend is going to-"

 _"You won't tell me his name? Why?"_ Draco questioned, cutting her off. She cursed him for noticing that.

"I don't think you'd let him help if you knew who he was. But he can and will help you. I swear that."

Draco pulled his hand away.

Harry pulled out his wand.

Hermione pulled the curtain shut.

* * *

"Harry! Harry, what is it?" Hermione called frantically, chasing her crazed friend out of the room. She shot a last glance at Draco on the bed. He was still sitting on his own and he let his head fall into his hands. Torn, she decided he seemed well enough and took off after Harry.

She found the Auror around the corner, crouched over, his arm leaning against the wall to support himself. The motherly concern she felt for Harry and Ron during their year on the run came back to her full force as she rushed to his side. She slid a comforting hand across his back, resting it on his shoulder.

"Harry? What's wrong? Are you alright?" she demanded in what the boys used to refer to as her 'mother bear' tone.

The boy waved her off, eventually standing shakily. She carefully guided him to a nearby waiting bench. A few concerned healers tried to approach them, but she sent them off.

"Tell me. What happened?"

Harry shook his head and ran his fingers through his raven locks, returning it to the glorious mess he wore as a boy. "Everything. Nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"His mind is a mess. I've never seen anything like it before," Harry admitted, his voice shaken. "It was too much."

"Was he Imperioed? Obliviated?" Hermione found herself needing to know. Ever since she had felt the sheer desperation of Draco Malfoy's magic calling out to her, she had been waiting for answers. And judging by the ever steady Harry Potter's frazzled state, the answers he had weren't good.

"Yes," Harry said, "And also no."

Hermione's brow knotted in confusion. "Wh-what does that mean?"

"I-I honestly have no idea. It doesn't make any sense at all," Harry began. "At first, there was nothing. I sifted through his early memories and then nothing. Just a wall. Then, there were a few. But they were so faint. Nothing made sense. They were so disjointed. Some of them are real, but it was hard to sort them out from the fake memories. There were too many. And then there were some blurry ones that must have been under the _Imperius_.

"It was too much. Just utter chaos. Whoever did this wanted no risk of anyone recovering his memories. But the few left behind…it's like whoever did this couldn't decide what the best way to do that was. It's like they tried out every spell they could think of before they found something that worked," the wizard said with a distraught shake of the head. He looked to Hermione with tearful eyes. "Hermione, it was horrible."

Hermione threw her arms around her best friend and pulled him close. Arms slowly slid their way around her waist before locking on her firmly.

"Hermione, I couldn't imagine have that going on in my head all the time. It's a blessing that he can't remember anything. It's better that it's so deeply buried for him."

She ran her fingers through his hair as he pulled out of her grasp. "Harry…what did you see?"

But he simply shook his head.

"Tell me?"

"I can't," he said regrettably. "None of it makes enough sense. Not yet. But I will do my absolute best to figure it out."

Rising to his feet, Harry offered her a hand up. She reluctantly took it, dissatisfied by his answer but accepting nonetheless. The two walked back to Draco's room in a somber silence. When they reached his door, they fell to a wordless stop. "What do I tell him?"

Harry let out a heavy sigh, pinching his nose between his forefinger and thumb. "Do you want me to talk to him?"

"I'm not sure. He's probably confused. He's so lost, Harry."

Harry took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. "Don't worry, Hermione," he said in a tone much more confident than he really was, "We'll help him find the way back. We'll bring the ferret home."

Having broken the serious atmosphere, Hermione smacked her friend on the arm in amused exasperation. "Don't make jokes, Harry Potter!"

"Sorry, sorry," he said not sorry at all.

She gave him an exaggerated eye roll and pushed him playfully. "If you've traumatized him and yourself enough today, then be gone with you already."

He smiled a bit sadly and bid her farewell, determined to sort out the scattered memories as soon as possible.

* * *

Draco hadn't moved from where she had left him. From Harry's description of his mental state, she couldn't help but compare the boy to Neville. No one had made it through the war unscathed. Some bore reminders of their suffering on the surface, like Neville, but so many countless others hid their ghastly scars deep within. She had had years to ponder it, but she still couldn't decide which was worse.

Shaking her head to clear her grim thoughts, Hermione stepped through the doorway. At the sound of her entrance, the blonde removed his head from his hands. He looked to her with a faintly hidden hope that she hated to crush. She crossed the room quickly and let her fingers slip through his.

The warmth of them surprised her. Over the weeks she had failed to notice how much he had changed. Gone were the skeletal hands that had first reached out to her, replaced instead by the so very impossibly alive boy before her.

Quiet, hopeful, fearful. " _Did-did he find anything?"_

"Nothing that makes sense."

 _"I see."_

"No, you don't."

" _Don't be smart_."

"Can't help it. I'll have you know I was top of my class."

" _Congratulations. Would you like a medal?"_

"Don't be snippy."

He shot her an unamused glare that slowly dissolved into an exasperated grin. " _Fine, fine_."

"I'm sorry it didn't work, Draco," she apologized sincerely.

He nodded but said, " _I didn't expect it to_."

Hermione frowned. "Then what are you so down about?"

" _You asked me if I trusted you. And I wasn't lying. I do_ ," he said slowly, carefully. _"But I want to know. Who are you? Really?"_

"My name is J-Jean. I told you," she stuttered.

He shook his head distastefully. _"Don't lie to me. You said so yourself that it wasn't. Why won't you tell me?"_

Hermione bit her lip, hating the disappointment on his face. "I-I have to go. I'm sorry."

When her hand slipped through his, he made a grunt of disapproval, clearly irritated at her for taking away his ability to question her.

"Besides, I think I've dropped enough clues. I think you've already guessed who I really am," Hermione said rather wistfully, almost as though she wished he hadn't.

He heard her hovering in the doorway. He couldn't see her, but he could hear her indecision. She wasn't wrong. He had his suspicions. Draco had known she was never just Jean. For a start, there were no Jeans in their year at Hogwarts. And the things she said, they were so familiar. He knew he had been horrible to her, no matter who she was. But there was one girl that he was especially awful to. For so many reasons.

And he so badly hoped she was the very same girl.

There was nothing more Draco wanted than to know for certain. But the very girl, whether who she was who he thought or not, had taken away his chance to guess. His voice. His stupid voice. He wanted to scream in frustration. The silence was stifling and suddenly he couldn't live with it for one moment longer.

So he shouted. He shouted her name, his head filling with nothing but her name, her name, her name. And finally, her name.

"Hermione..."

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hey there, friends! Sorry it's been a while, but I promise I haven't forgotten about this story! I've been working on it, but school kind of has to come first...**_

 _ **Anyway, hope you like it! Let me know what you think :)**_


	11. However Impossible

**_Chapter 11_**  
 ** _However Impossible_**

Whatever the universe had in store for the troubled young couple, it did not allow for Hermione Granger to hear her name slip through the pale lips of Draco Malfoy's for the very first time.

She may not have heard it then, but it would be far from the last time her name fell from his mouth.

* * *

Harry Potter shuffled through his kitchen and tried to play off his nerves as preparing dinner.

"Are you ever going to tell the poor bloke who you really are?" Harry wondered as he set the bowl on the table. Hermione frowned as she reached for the salad. She nodded slowly, thoughtful of her last visit. "I am. I think he might have already guessed, if I'm honest. I don't know why I care so much. He's clearly not the awful boy we used to know. He certainly has more to worry about than my identity anyhow."

Harry grimaced as he settled into the chair across from her. At her raised eyebrow, he explained offhandedly, "Just some physical training today, is all. Don't worry about it."

"You look like you were run over by a hippogriff. Are you sure you're alright?" Hermione questioned worriedly.

He waved her off and gave her a pointed look. "Don't you dare change the topic! I know how you are, Miss Granger."

Hermione blushed a tad sheepishly and twirled her fork around in her hand as a distraction. After a moment, she raised another question rather than offering him an answer. "What are they going to do with him?"

It was quite clear to her that her friend was hoping to avoid such an inquiry. Dark messy locks fell into emerald eyes as they fell to the floor. She could tell the answer was a weighted one. She could see it in the sag of his ever tense shoulders.

"Andromeda," he said finally.

The witch seemed surprised but not displeased, so Harry carried on. "It's a difficult situation, obviously. I mean, he's technically an adult in the wizarding world. But he obviously can't care for himself. It's not required by law that he go to his next of kin at his age, but in this case…" Harry trailed off sadly and made a point to catch Hermione's eye. "Does he know? What happened to his parents? I never thought to ask, but if he can't remember anything…"

Dinner long forgotten, Hermione gently pushed her food aside and said, "He does. More or less anyway. He doesn't want to know everything yet. That I can understand. So much has happened. So much that has to do with him. He tries to pretend he can handle it, but I can see the struggle. I asked him if he wanted to know a few days ago."

She remembered the guarded look in his unseeing eyes as he cleverly skirted around the question she could see burning right through him. She didn't know if it was pride or fear that kept him from asking. Perhaps it was a bit of both. It wasn't hard to see the uncertainty he felt about his parents. Having lost and found her parents herself, she knew the fierce love she held for them. And they were amazing people. His parents…well. She could understand the conflicting emotions he felt regarding them.

Finally, she decided blunt was the best. "Your father died in Azkaban and it's assumed that your mother is still with her relatives in France. That was the last they heard of her. I thought you might want to know."

"And? What did he say?" Harry urged.

"He didn't."

"What?"

The girl shrugged, stabbing a piece of lettuce with her fork. "He didn't say anything. He only nodded and changed the topic."

A thought suddenly occurred to Hermione and her head flew up to Harry. "Does Andromeda even know?"

Harry couldn't meet her eye, instead playing with his napkin. He didn't want to witness the disapproving frown he knew was on her face. He didn't have to. It was plain to hear in her tone as she scolded, "Harry Potter, you're about to charge the poor unsuspecting woman with a blind, memoryless mute she didn't even know was alive? Are you _mad_?"

"Well, obviously we have to tell her first!" Harry exclaimed defensively, feeling uncomfortably childish under his friend's fierce glare. His cheeks burned hot when he realized she didn't miss his terminology.

"Hold on. _We_? Are you joking? Now _I_ have to tell her?"

Hands up and waving frantically, Harry tried to placate the infuriated girl. "No, no. I didn't mean it like that! I meant _we_ as in my department, of course."

But Hermione knew him better than that. He was a horrible liar after all. "I have done enough for this situation, thank you very much. I will not have the weight of that on my shoulders. The woman has already lost her husband and her daughter. She's been charged with Teddy and now you want to throw this at her?" Hermione reminded him sharply. Another thought occurred to her. "Do they even know each other?"

"I'm not actually sure. I know she was cut off from the rest of the family for marrying Ted. She might not have ever met him in person," Harry admitted reluctantly. "But she _is_ family. And these days, we can't be too picky about that. There's not too many of us left, I'm afraid."

Hermione rubbed her hands over her face, unsure what she should be feeling. Harry let her sit in silence for a moment or two. The only sound that filled the cozy flat was the soft clinking of his fork on his plate as he absent mindedly munched on his neglected dinner.

"Okay," Hermione said finally. Green eyes glanced up. "Andromeda aside, I think there is something more important that we're missing."

Perplexed, Harry gestured for her to carry on.

"Harry, Draco Malfoy _died_ that day. We all saw it. It shouldn't be possible for him to be alive. When he's released, how is the world going to react? We have no answers, and the wizarding community is going to be pounding on your doors for them."

By Harry's nauseated expression, the witch correctly assumed that he hadn't thought that far ahead. "He's practically defenseless. He can't see. He can't speak. He can barely move on his own. We don't even know how everything that happened affected his magic yet. We are essentially bringing him back to life in the public's eye. How are we supposed to do that?"

Hermione was sad to see her dear friend looking so troubled as he mulled over her questions. She slowly rose to her feet and crossed over to the Boy-Who-Stressed. Gentle hands came to rest on tensed shoulders. Harry sighed under her comforting touch and let his head fall into his hands with a sigh. "I haven't a clue, Hermione. Not a single clue."

* * *

In the end, any plans Harry halfheartedly put together would be blown to the wind. Draco Malfoy's resurrection would find its way into the dramatic front page display they had hoped to avoid. Hermione, in the time before the story broke, carried on with her new routine.

 _"Oh come off it, I know you want to leave."_

"No, I'm really happy to stay," Hermione insisted. She was leaned against Draco's bed quite comfortably as he struggled to pull himself into a sitting position. His morning therapy session had left him rather fatigued. He was currently trying to convince the witch that she had better things to do than sit with the likes of him. Especially since he liked to think he knew who she actually was now. "Oddly enough, I find you much easier to talk to now that you can't talk."

She beamed at his dirty blank look. He didn't know much of anything about the past few years, but he most certainly knew that he had done absolutely nothing to deserve such attention from the likes of Hermione Granger. Assuming that he had guessed correctly who his savior was. Then, who else would have been smart enough to find a way for him to communicate? Let alone have the desire to rifle through so many ancient tomes to do it.

"Hate to interrupt what appears to be an intense conversation, but I've got some news for our patient here."

Both the young witch and wizard startled at the new voice. "Merlin's beard, Marius, you scared me!" Hermione let out a breathy laugh. She grinned at the healer as he crossed the room. He did some diagnostic spells on the blonde and nodded his head in satisfaction.

"What happened to constant vigilance, Miss Granger?" Marius teased lightly. Hermione huffed indignantly and shot back, "I'd like to think I've left living in such a constantly paranoid state long behind me, thank you very much."

"Yes, I'd like to think that those days are behind us," Marius agreed with a sad smile. Turning to Draco, he cheered up a bit. "Well, kid, I've got what I hope is good news for you!"

The confident healer pretended not to be nervous as he noticed the wary look he received from his patient. "You're officially healthy enough to leave!" Marius announced excitedly. "You'll of course have to come by two days a week minimum for some basic checkups. We'll continue to research how to retrieve your memories… and hopefully your sight and voice. However, I'm afraid that besides that, you're _too healthy_ to keep here."

Hermione could feel the boy stiffen under her finger tips. Before she asked what he was thinking, he slowly pulled his hand away from her touch. She felt the usual fatigue from the spell hit her but she paid his worried expression more mind.

Marius looked to her in concern. "Don't you want to leave, Draco?"

It seemed to take an age before the boy slowly offered a reluctant shake of his head.

"Why in Merlin's name would you want to stay here?" the young healer questioned incredulously, momentarily forgetting his professional air. Recovering, he teased good-naturedly, "What? Would you miss me too much?"

At his poor joke, Draco gave a wry smile. It wasn't hard to see that he was still bothered by something. Without trying to press too hard, Hermione looked from Marius to Draco and wondered, "Are you afraid you have nowhere to go?"

The stubborn boy refused to answer her question. Rolling her eyes at the tough boy façade he was halfheartedly trying to put on, Hermione informed him of Harry's plans.

"Did you ever meet your aunt? Andromeda?"

Completely thrown by her unexpected question, she managed to get Draco's interest. She kept a satisfied smile to herself as she felt his hand search for hers once again. _"We never met. Not that I remember. Mother always said she wished things were different."_

Hermione gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Well, apparently she's agreed to take care of you. Quite happily if I've heard correctly. She was incredibly relieved to hear you'd been found. However impossible it may seem."

"She doesn't even know me. She's not going to want to be burdened with me."

"You'd be surprised," Hermione said as her eyes followed Marius to the door. She could see a figure in powder blue robes hovering anxiously outside the half open door. "I think you'll find that she's rather keen to take you home."

Hermione liked to think of herself as a fairly sane witch, even after all the troubles she had been through in her relatively short life. When she came face to face with the woman in the doorway, however, every bit of rational thought went out the window. All she saw were those curly dark locks and dusty brown eyes. Sent into an immediate panic, Hermione did not register that those eyes held the soft twinkle of a mother's love rather than the crazed gleam of a sadistic monster.

So unprepared for such a loss of control, Hermione was frozen in her spot at Draco's side. He could sense the sudden change in her even if he could not see it. Her warm hand had gone slack in his only to begin their now familiar trembles. He knew they were something she tried to conceal from him for whatever reason, but he had never mentioned it for fear of sending her running. Draco had to believe something was wrong if she was doing nothing to hide them.

Little could he know that she was no longer in the room with him, but back on the cold floor of his manor. She could feel the heavy weight of the savage witch pressing down on her. Her throat was on fire, her screams ripping through it. A knife was slicing, slicing, slicing and she was never going to give Harry up. She was never going to give in. But the pain. Merlin, the pain, the pain, the pain…

"Oh my dear Draco, you're alive!" a gentle voice exclaimed softly, her words thick with emotion.

Draco's head whipped toward the new voice in wonder.

For Draco, all he heard in that blissful moment was the voice of his dear mother, Narcissa. For Hermione, all she could she see was the mad woman who left her scarred for life.

* * *

"Why is it that I'm always finding you hiding yourself away in my flat?" George questioned as he threw his magenta robes to the floor. He hadn't yet noticed the state his flat crasher was in, so he carried on teasing her as he kicked his shoes off. "I mean, how am I supposed to keep a girlfriend if they think they've got to compete with the likes of you every time they come over?"

Assuming his friend was just ignoring his jabs, the lanky ginger was in for a surprise when his gaze finally landed on Hermione.

The poor witch was settled on the edge of his leather sofa, hands in a tangled, trembling mess. She wasn't crying but he could see the stains of fresh tears down her pale cheeks. Her usually vibrant honey brown eyes were staring blankly into the distance.

Knowing only a resurgence of wartime memories could have brought on such a catatonic state, George asked no questions. He simply grabbed the heavy quilted blanket his mother had given him as a house warming gift and wrapped the tiny witch up. He gently pushed her back into the soft cushions and tucked her in. Holding in a heavy sigh, the jokester crossed into the kitchen and got the kettle going.

Ten minutes later found a livelier Hermione slowly sipping her piping hot tea and avoiding George's concerned gaze.

"Feeling better?" George wondered some time later. Hermione nodded sheepishly, embarrassed to intrude on him once again. Sensing her train of thought, he shot her a glare and warned, "Don't you even dare apologize! The amount of times you simply sat with me until I came back around, this is the least I could do."

"Still, you're right. I shouldn't keep barging in here," she sighed unhappily.

George waved her nonsense away with a dismissive hand and settled on the couch beside her. "You know I don't really mind. If I did. I'd have changed the locks."

"I could still break in," Hermione teased half-heartedly, a faint smirk on her lips that didn't reach her eyes.

George smiled widely at her attempt at humor given the state he'd found her in and laughed. "Oh, I've no doubt about that. But we both known you'd never dream of actually breaking in."

Hermione offered a conceding nod. George wrapped a comforting arm around her and risked the question he had grown to hate. "So, are you okay?"

The witch took several moments to respond, but George was in no rush. At last, she explained in a soft voice, "Yes. Yes, I'm okay. I was just caught off guard today and had quite a shock."

"And you came here instead of your own home because…?"

Hermione frowned at the cup of tea that was sending a soothing warmth into her chilled bones. "I didn't know how to explain it to Neville. If he came home to find me like that."

At that, George shook his head. "Let me guess, he doesn't know its back from the dead Malfoy you've been running off to visit."

Her silence was answer enough. "Don't you think he should know? I mean, you two are closer than most, aren't you?"

"You're right, of course. But every time I get the chance to tell him, I just can't. Part of me still doesn't believe its real. And it doesn't matter anymore anyway."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione bit her lip and kept her gaze trained in her hands. "I mean that he is no longer a ward of St. Mungo's. Andromeda has taken charge of his care. I've done my part, so I'm no longer needed. No more Malfoy."

To the average person, it would seem as though the thought was a relief to the girl. George, however, who thought of himself as anything but average, could tell that she wasn't quite sure she was happy about it.

He did his best to cheer her up that afternoon, but the Weasley prankster had a feeling that her adventure with Malfoy was nowhere near its end. George figured the least he could do was keep her well supplied with hugs and tea in the meantime.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _ **Heyyyy so I'm still alive! Sorry for disappearing for an age...the usual excuses of life and busyness are all applicable here. The biggest reason for no updates has been the fact that 3 chapters of this got deleted and I was so discouraged :/ But I finally got written out again! I've been having too much fun riding ponies in Ireland for the summer haha. Sorry for the wait, but hugeeee thank yous to those of you who wrote me asking about the story! Means the world to me!**_


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